


The Overthrown Prince

by AlexandraCole



Category: Ella Enchanted - All Media Types, Valhalla Rising
Genre: #EatTheRare Fest, Alternate Universe, Captivity, Crossover, Explicit Language, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Muteness, Not Between Main Pairing, Rarepair, Romance, Sexual Content, Slavery, Slow Burn, Threats of Rape/Non-Con, Valhalla Enchanted, Violence, War
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-30
Updated: 2018-10-14
Packaged: 2019-01-07 04:53:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 27,466
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12226152
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlexandraCole/pseuds/AlexandraCole
Summary: Amidst the civil war in Kyrria, Prince Char is captured and taken prisoner in a foreign land. He knows he will have to escape if he is ever to return to Frell and reclaim his throne, but his only hope is a child and a mute, one-eyed man Char isn’t sure he can trust.





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is includes elements of Ella Enchanted (novel & film), Valhalla Rising (2009), and a bit of my own crazy imagination for the #EatTheRare fest. Hope you like it.

With all the strength he could muster, Char drove his sword into the chest of the last bandit of the gang. The man’s eyes widened in horror as he looked down and realised his death was imminent. Char pulled back his sword. The man made a repulsive gurgle and then his lifeless body fell to the ground with a dry thud.

Panting heavily, Char took a look around him — everything had turned out so wrong. He and the three members of his personal guard were supposed to covertly investigate the recent pillages in the southernmost towns, asses the situation, and then return to Frell with a full report. Instead, they had been ambushed by bandits in a forest and an arrow had pierced Sir George’s head with deadly precision, Sir Percy had taken a sword to the heart, and Char never got a chance to see what fate had befallen Sir Mallory, but the last member of his guard was lying now on the ground amidst a pool of blood.

With a low groan, Char willed his feet to move towards the nearest tree trunk he could find, dragging his sword along the fallen dry leaves littering the ground of the dead forest. He leaned back against the craggy surface and slid down with a heavy plop. He winced. He lifted a hand to his left side, where he found the hilt of the dagger he had failed to evade, puncturing his armour. Taking a deep breath, Char took a hold of the dagger and tried to yank it out. Through gritted teeth, he pulled once, twice…the pain became unbearable but Char finally managed to remove it. Blood quickly began to trickle down his silver-like gauntlet and he removed it immediately to press his hand against the open wound. Char knew he had to take off his breastplate too if he wanted to tend to his injury better, but that would mean fidgeting with buckles he could only just reach by himself — and he barely had the strength to remain awake.

 _Damn it_ , he thought, reflecting on his current situation; all the horses had panicked and fled, he was badly injured, and he had no water, food or supplies left…

Char let out a weak but bitter chuckle. After everything so many people had given up for him, after everything he himself had sacrificed, this was to be the end. Right here, in this forest. Uncle Edgar would become the unopposed King of Kyrria and magic would be forever banished from the realm — he had failed. He had failed his men, his people, his father…at least his death would mean a stop to the civil war which had ravaged his land for the past three years. He could make peace with that. 

Char leaned his head back and stared at the horizon. He had none to blame but himself. It was him who had insisted on venturing into the southern border of the kingdom with just a small number of his most loyal men. His captain of the guard had warned him the Forlorn Forest was a nest of criminals and murderers and that the cause couldn’t afford to lose him, but Char had disregarded his advice and gone anyway. 

_Good kings lead from the front._

His father had taught him that.

Char began to feel suddenly very tired and cold. He noticed he had loosened his grip on his sword and tried to grasp it again, but his fingers merely gave a twitch. It was becoming increasingly harder to think or remain awake, so Char allowed himself to close his eyes.

 _I’m sorry, dad_ , was Char’s last thought before darkness engulfed him.

*|*|*

It began like a faint mumble of noise, a strange jumble of sounds which suddenly began to take shape and fit into a pattern Char recognised — voices. Char opened his eyes. Despite the blurriness of his vision, Char was certain there were other people with him, although they were speaking in a language Char had never heard before. A strong smell immediately assaulted his senses and it made him feel sick, yet the minute he tried to rise to throw up, he felt a sharp pain shooting from his left side all the way to the base of his skull, making him fall on his back with a loud groan.

A pair of hands held him down forcefully while a voice spoke to him in quick, short bursts. Char couldn’t understand a thing of what he was being told. He felt another pair of hands holding his face in place and forcing his lips open. A bitter liquid was shoved down his throat. He spurted. More liquid was poured down his mouth and Char began to cough. He tried to break free. He began to squirm but the pain on his side rendered his struggle useless and he found himself held down even more firmly than before. He began to feel drowsy and sleepy, and the darkness claimed him again.

*|*|*

The agonising scream made Char jolt awake. His hand immediately went for his sword, but all he grasped was air. He was dressed only in his under garments, and a quick look of his surroundings put him on alert; he was in some sort of small, dingy cabin. The slopping roof was made of turf and the walls of wattle, but there were only two other cots in the only room of the cabin. The cots themselves looked filthy — yellowed linen with a myriad of stains that seemed to cover all hues between red and brown — which only served to added to the disgust Char felt when he saw a table, near his cot, covered with several bloodied rags and flies all over them. 

Remembering the events of the forest, Char brought a hand to his wound and was surprised to find it dressed. The bandages on his body looked clean and that — at least — was a good sign. He continued looking around, trying to find a clue which could tell him more about where he was or who had brought him here, but there really wasn’t much else he could gather from the place. There were no windows, the door was closed, and it was impossible to tell if it was morning or afternoon from the light filtering into the room between the gaps of the wood.

Suddenly another blood curdling scream carried over to the room and Char’s hair stood on end.

“What the —?” Char was about to stand up from his coat when a voice behind him asked him to stop. Char turned his head to see a child of no more than ten standing at one of the room’s corners, a bowl of water in his hands. The child’s scalp bore the marks of a rough shave, with several cuts and and patches of flesh missing. He had a heavy-looking iron collar around his neck and shackles on his hands. He also had leg irons on his feet, but the chain connecting them was missing. 

“Be quiet. Try not to move too much, you were hurt,” the child whispered, slowly walking closer to Char and handing him the bowl.

Char looked first at the child then at the water, but it was much to dark to truly see it — or his reflection, for that matter — so he decided to trust the intentions of the boy and taking the bowl in his hands, he drank all its contents in one gulp.

“Thank you,” he said, wiping his mouth with his hand. The boy gave him a faint smile and took back the bowl.

“What’s your name?” Char asked, but the child immediately tensed. He seemed torn by the question, but in the end he shook his head, “I can’t say.”

“Why not? You do have a name, don’t you?” 

“Yes, but I was told not to tell it to strangers,” the boy replied with a troubled frown.

“Okay,” Char said, in the most soothing tone he could muster, “What if I were to introduce myself first?”

The child seemed to think it over, before he lowered his gaze and shook his head, “No, I think you’d still be a stranger even then,”

Technically that was true. Decided not to press the matter further, Char asked another question instead, “Perhaps you can tell me where we are, then.” 

The boy nodded hesitantly, but before he could reply they heard a pair of voices drawing near and the child let out a frightened gasp.

“I have to go!” the boy cried with urgency.

“No, wait!” Char exclaimed as high as he could while whispering and saw the child stop abruptly on his tracks, “Tell me, do you know where we are? How long have I been here?” Char said, trying not to sound too desperate. The boy took a quick look around him and half-turned towards Char with a resigned look on his face.

“You were found by the Vins three days ago,” the child said, and Char felt a shudder run down his spine at the mention of the name, “Just…just do as the say, when they come,” and this time the boy managed to crawl outside the room though a hole in one of the walls — which was conveniently hidden by a crate, Char noted — before two men unlocked the door and stepped inside.

Instinctively, Char held a hand in front of him to try to block the burst of light that filtered into the room, strong enough to make him squint his eyes. The men didn’t seem to pay him any mind at first — their eyes roamed over the room, clearly searching for something, or someone — until they finally noticed Char.

They spoke in that same unfamiliar language Char vaguely remember hearing before, and even if he knew not what they were saying, their tone was enough for Char to understand they were asking him something.

“I’m…I’m sorry, I’m afraid I don’t understand,” he said. The men exchanged a look. One of them rolled his eyes and left the room, the other grunted but stayed behind, blocking the open door, arms crossed over his chest.

Now that his eyes had adjusted to the light, Char noticed a wooden shelf he hadn’t seen before; it had bandages, ointments, and a few dried herbs. Clearly someone had bothered to look after him, but why? Before his Uncle’s uprising, Char would’ve been filled with an immediate sense of gratitude and relief, but he had learnt since he had to be careful on whom he placed his trust.

More voices where heard and the guard from before returned with a woman — an old woman whose hair was completely white and looked looked like she could barely walk due to her old age. She had an iron collar on her neck and her hands were shackled, similarly to the boy he had seen before.

The guard said something and the old woman turned to Char, translating the question, “He wants to know where are you from.”

“Kyrria. A town south of Frell, Malpast.” There was a garrison loyal to him currently stationed in Malpast, so it wasn’t technically a lie. Besides, Char wasn’t certain honesty was the best policy under his current circumstances.

The old woman relayed his answer and the guard asked him something else,“He says you had a sword and armour with you when they found you. He wants to know if you’re a warrior.”

“Y-yes, I’m a soldier,” Char said, deciding it wouldn’t be safe for him to introduce himself as royalty, regardless of whether these people had an interest in the current civil war in Kyrria or not.

The woman translated his answer and both guards looked at Char up and down, before bursting out laughing. They exchanged a couple of words, and laughed again.

“What are they saying?” Char enquired to the old woman.

“They think you look too…delicate to be a warrior,” she said, and Char sighed — all his life… he was just glad his journey to the southern border had forced him to grow a beard, otherwise it would’ve been harder for him to plead his case.

The guards looked at each other and one of them left — the same one as before — while the other remained where he was, not so subtly hiding the wide grin on his face.

“Why am I here?” Char asked, and then the guard yelled something at Char, taking a few steps closer to him.

“No talking unless spoken to,” the old woman replied with certain heaviness and Char nodded slowly. He’d cooperate, if it got him out of whatever mess he was in.

A few minutes passed in a heavy silence before the guard returned with another two other men. The first was a bald man, older than Char but not old; he would’ve been completely unremarkable if it weren’t for a deep scar on his left cheek and the burnt mark covering his entire left arm. The second man, contrary to the first, had grey, dirty hair, and a very unsightly face that was made worse by the even more unfriendly expression plastered on it. Char noticed this man’s shoulders were draped in some sort of cape and his forehead was covered by a bandana, so it was clear he was someone of importance. The older man asked something, spitting the words through his crooked and yellowed teeth.

“The jarl says you owe him and his son a debt for your life,”

“Yes, and for that I thank you. I am a soldier, currently serving in the army loyal to Prince Charmont of Kyrria. I’ll make sure you’re handsomely compensated for your services and hospitality upon my return with my men, in Malpast,” Char stated, trying to show confidence when addressing the chieftain and his son. He could see how the uneven eyes of the older man looked at him, judging him as the interpreter conveyed his message. The eyes of the son were twinkling with amusement and…by the way they seemed fixed on him, a hint of lust, which made Char avert his gaze immediately, focusing back on the jarl.

The older man suddenly barked a laugh, and he, his son, and the two guards began talking and laughing in turns. 

“The jarl says he cares little about which army you serve in, and that your money is worth nothing here,”

“Perhaps something other than—” the back of a hand slapped him right across the face. Char felt an explosion of pain on his left cheek and he could feel the burning imprint of one of the guard’s hands upon it.

“No talking,” the old woman simply reminded him.

Char had never felt so out of his depth before. He was used to dealing with kings, ambassadors, nobles, and merchants from different nations, but there was something about this whole situation he couldn’t seem to grasp.

Despite the sting of the slap, Char turned his head again and looked at the jarl straight in the eye, “How am I to repay you, then?”

The jarl’s nostrils flared, and the guard who had slapped him before was ready to do so again, but this time the jarl’s son stopped the hand of his man. He told something to the guard, and then he turned towards his father. They talked for a while, and then asked something to the old woman. Char followed the conversation despite his lack of understanding, and sat straighter on the bed when the three turned to look at him. Whatever had been said put a grin on the son’s face and a satisfied look on his father’s.

“The jarl says you were only healed because you have…caught his son’s fancy. You will be bathed, shaved, and sent to his bed, and once he has been satisfied, you will be thrown in with the body slaves to …entertain any of the men who desire your company,” the old woman pronounced in a grave voice, her eyes betraying a sting of pity that was no doubt tempered by years of resignation, and Char felt his stomach sink. This wasn't happening to him.

The jarl made a dismissive hand gesture and Char saw with trepidation how he and his son turned around to leave. Not truly thinking what he was doing, Char got out of the cot and ran towards them.

“Wait!” Char exclaimed, as he managed to grab the jarl’s son by his tunic. The man spun around, jaw clenched and fist raised, and Char didn’t think twice before he head-butted him. Given the difference in height, Char’s forehead smashed the man’s nose, which immediately began to bleed. The guards were on Char on an instant and forced him roughly to the ground. The jarl’s eyes switched between Char and his son, who was holding his nose with his hand, blood trickling past his fingers. Finally, the jarl yelled something, spitting all the words uttered, and angrily dragged his son away.

One of the guards punched him in his injured side and Char curled in a hot flash of pain, certain that his wound had been reopened.

“You shouldn’t'ave done that! You shouldn’t’ave done that!” the old woman cried.

“What happened? What did he say?” Char managed through gritted teeth, but the old woman was already being dragged outside by the guards. By the time Char recovered from the blow, he was once again locked inside, alone.

*|*|*

Shortly after his encounter with the jarl and his son, Char found himself stripped of all his clothes and given a pair of dirty pants and an equally dirty old linen shirt that smelled worse than a gutter and had dried bloodstains all over. Once he had dressed himself, the guards shackled his wrists, took him by the arms, and dragged him out of the cabin — barefooted.

Char squinted his eyes as the first rays of sunlight blinded him. It was a welcome change from the relative darkness of the cabin, yet he still had some trouble making out more than general shapes and colours. Char felt a hard shove on his back that made him stumble, but he quickly recovered his footing and kept walking.

Once the world around him gained some definition, Char realised he was in a  village — or rather, a settlement, a very primitive-looking settlement. Yet as he took in more of his surroundings, Char stopped once more, mouth agape as he stared into the tall arid mountains flanking him from all sides. The scant patches of grass he could see at a distance looked ashen, the trees, dead. He could see no rivers, or lakes…there was no doubt he was in some sort of valley, but the entire land was just rock and dust. He had never imagined people could live under such extreme conditions.

The shove on his back got Char walking again. The soil beneath his feet was hot, and there were too many rocks and loose earth on the ground that could hurt his feet, so Char tried to scout for the safest surfaces — not that there were many. He sincerely hoped that wherever he was being taken wouldn’t be too far. It wasn’t.

As soon as they were about 100 meters away from the last houses, the terrain became uneven and Char soon found himself walking down a sort of ravine, with tall, narrow walls of rock encroaching on him. Char tried to be even more careful where he stepped on, but the leg cuffs made it hard to walk and Char slipped. He managed to recover quickly, but a sting on the sole of his right foot told him he had probably cut himself.

One of the guards gave him another shove. Exasperated, Char was seconds away from lunging at the guard when they finally reached the end of the ravine and a clifftop appeared before them. The fist thing Char noticed were the two wooden poles stuck in the ground opposite each other, left and right, almost at the very edge of the clifftop. The second, the cages. Three rusted cages filled with people; twenty or so per cage — all wearing iron collars, leg irons, and shackles. Prisoners.

Char’s feet unconsciously stopped moving and this time the shove on his back knocked him to the ground. The guards laughed and forcefully held him up and dragged him all the way to one of the poles, the one to the left. His back hit against the mast and his arms were quickly tied behind the wooden pole so tight he felt his shoulders would come out of their sockets. One of the guards kneeled down to tie his feet while the other grabbed him painfully by the chin with one hand as his other caressed his unshaven cheek. The guard said something to him then, and Char angrily turned his head away from the unwanted caress. The guard sneered and Char suddenly felt a strong pain bursting on his face that made his eyes tear up. It took him a second to realise he had been punched and that he was now bleeding from his nose.

The other guard rose to his feet and took out an iron collar and placed it on Char’s neck with industrious ease. Char only heard the metallic sound of the locking mechanism and the next thing he felt was the heavy iron piece bitting into his skin — so tight Char could barely breathe.

The guard who had punched Char told something to his companion and both men laughed. Once they made sure he was tightly secured and unable to escape, the men left.

Char felt a sudden relief he welcomed gladly. Although he wouldn’t call his current situation an improvement, for a minute he thought they were still going to hand him over to the jarl’s son. Being left tied to a pole was clearly a punishment, but Char saw it as a small reprieve given his circumstances.

Despite his broken nose, Char was abruptly assaulted by a nauseating stench which he realised was emanating from the cages. With a bit of difficulty — given the tightness of the iron collar — Char turned his head as much as he could towards the other prisoners; crusts of dirt all over their skin, gaunt faces and emaciated limbs, filthy rags as their only scraps of clothing. Cramped together in such small enclosures, the people in the cages were clearly treated no better than animals. Remembering the old woman and the boy from earlier, Char realised these weren’t only prisoners…they were slaves. Anger began to uncoil within him. He wished he could do something for these people, but what? He could barely do something to help himself.

“What did you do?” a voice asked to his right which Char immediately recognised. It both pained him and relieved him to know the boy from before was one of the caged slaves. While Char had no desire to see his friend there, he couldn’t lie and say he wasn’t glad for the company.

“I broke someone’s nose,” Char replied with a cheeky smile. He had to strain his neck a little to the side to see the boy, but his effort was rewarded by an eye roll which put a genuine smile on Char’s lips.

“You should’ve done what they told you,” the boy said disapprovingly.

“I’m not particularly good at following orders,”

“Then what kind of soldier are you?”

Char was taken aback by the comment, but he quickly tried to hide his surprise behind his next remark, “News travel fast around here,”

“The Vins usually don’t capture people after raids,”

“So slavery is, what? An occasional pastime?”

“Could be. They like to take no prisoners,” the boy deadpanned.

“So we are the lucky few,” Char said with sarcasm, remembering the reason why, exactly, he had been saved in the woods.

“And our luck will run out if ya both don’t shut yer traps,” said another voice Char couldn’t place, but the warning came in time for him to see the patrolling guards walking down the ravine.

Whether he was indeed still going to serve as “entertainment” for the jarl’s men or whether he had just been left there to die, Char began to comprehend he'd made a mistake in leaving the safety of the Malpast outpost. Yet if he planned on ever returning to Frell, he had to come up with something, and fast.

/*|*|*\

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was part one.  
> Honestly, this idea came to me courtesy of the Valhalla Enchanted challenge (back in February), yet I was unable to finish drafting it on time ^_^’. Still, the story wouldn’t leave me alone and now that I finally finished the outline I decided to give it a go.
> 
> It’s probable that I’ll add more tags as the story progresses (regarding the sexual content) but I do want to clarify I’m the sort of sap who loves vanilla romances, so don’t except heavy stuff/kinks.
> 
> Also, the beta was done by me (and English is not my first language) so if you spot something, I would appreciate it if you’d let me know.
> 
> If everything goes according to plan, the fic will be updated every Friday or Saturday. Thanks for reading and I’ll look forward to your feedback!


	2. Chapter 2

Char awoke when he felt the tingly sensation of a fly standing on the dried blood of his upper lip. He unconsciously tried to bat it away, but the sting of the rope peeling off his skin reminded him he was still bound, so he just shook his head to get rid of the pest — mindful of the iron collar on his neck. With certain wistfulness, Char watched the insect fly away until it disappeared on the horizon.

Six days. He’d already spent six days tied to that forsaken pole under full sunshine, unable to remember when had been the last time he’d eaten a propel meal, wondering if Sir Robert, his second-in command, had already traveled to his Uncle’s stronghold in Emir to accept the terms of their surrender, or whether they were searching for him, hoping to find him alive…

Char closed his eyes and sighed.

*|*|*

Char had spent the first two days gathering information to get an idea of his location: he’d watched attentively the movement of the sun and the moon, made a note of the stars and constellations…it was how he managed to establish he was southeast to the Forlorn Forest, and with that he’d been able to mentally trace a possible escape route — up the ravine and north, and then west.

By the third day he had also learned the patrol times of the guards — dawn, midday, sundown, and midnight. This had told him the best time to attempt an escape was after sundown, when he could have the advantage of the last rays of sunlight to get as far away from the settlement as he could and either find a place to spend the night, or take his chances and keep moving under the cover of night. Even if his absence was discovered at midnight, it would be harder for the Vins to find him, and Char could be half a day ahead of them which, with any luck, would help him reach the Forlorn Forest before them. If what the boy had told him upon waking up was accurate, then it couldn’t be more than a three-day journey on foot.

And that was when the first complication of his plan had struck: the boy. Despite the short time they had “spent together”, their brief talks in-between the patrols had helped Char focus on something else that wasn’t the burn of the ropes on his skin, the hunger which gnawed at the pit of his stomach, or the searing heat which warmed all his iron restraints enough to burn; if he hadn’t fallen into despair, it was because of his own stubborn nature and the company of the child…but taking him along would certainly increase the risk of discovery, and if Char failed to escape then he would not only be forfeiting both of their lives, but also condemning Kyrria to the rule of Uncle Edgar.

Yet Char knew there simply was no way he would leave the boy behind. He wouldn’t forgive himself if he did. That was why he resolved to find out a way to free both himself and the kid so they could make their way northwest, towards the Forest — towards Kyrria.

For that purpose, on the fourth day Char decided to breach the subject with the boy. He was aware their constant conversations made some of the others nervous on account of them breaking the “no talking” rule, but if death was the worst that could happen, then Char saw no reason not to take a chance…they were all dying a slow death as they were.

“It won’t work,” the child said, voice heavy with resignation. Char was taken aback by the kid’s attitude, but he refused to be deterred.

“And why not?”

“Even if you somehow manage to release us, they’ll find us before we get too far.”

Char was puzzled by the conviction behind the child’s words, but then reasoned there could only be an explanation for that, “You’ve tried it before,” he said, watching the child give a slight nod.

“Back when we first met, it was you whom the guards had come inside looking for, wasn’t it? You were trying to escape, that day,”

The words hung in the air for a while, and Char could see the the boy’s expression turning somber.

“They let me out sometimes, to feed a friend across the village. I tried to escape once, but they sent the _sjakaler_ after me and they brought me back,” the child fell silent for a minute, but after taking a deep breath he kept going, “Yet that day I saw it, the hole in the wall. I thought next time I could hide inside the hut and wait for a day or two, then try to run away when no one was looking, but that didn’t work either…they brought you in, and there were more people about. I had to go back and tell the Vins I got lost on my way to the cages and they whipped me twice for being an idiot. ”

“I think you were very brave.” Char stated warmly, and the boy gave him a sheepish smile. Then, out of sheer curiosity he added, “About this friend you mentioned…”

“Oh yeah. They keep him locked inside a cave, because he likes to attack the Vins, you know? But most of the time they have him hunting and scouting the valley. He’s really awesome, though I hope you two never meet. He’s not very friendly towards others,”

“Thanks, I…I’ll keep that in mind,” said Char, idly wondering what sort of beast the Vins kept hidden in this mysterious cave.

*|*|*

The fifth day began like any other before it. The midday patrol brought food and water for the caged prisoners; just water for Char. And Char was sort of relieved he wasn’t given what the Vins passed for “food” for the others — chunks of stale bread, bits of animal gut, and rotten vegetables, carried inside a chipped and mouldy wooden bucket.

The guards walked along the cages, taking handfuls of the scraps and throwing them at the cages, forcing the people to push and pull each other in order to grab a piece of blackened potato or a stale morsel of bread …it was a degrading sight Char loathed to watch, made worse by the smiles plastered on the guards’ faces as they saw people fighting for the food.

The boy was among the few who didn’t join in; he ate whatever fell to the ground, however small.

Yet this time unlike all the others, two men inside the third cage began to cause quite a ruckus. The cage itself was a little bit out of sight for Char — being the one closest to the cliff and him being tied facing the ravine — but the sounds of bodies being hurled at the metal bars of the cage were very distinctive.

The two guards had noticed the fight, but it was clear they weren’t going to do anything about it, for they were making their way back to the village — then there was a scream. An agonising scream which remembered Char of those he had heard upon waking up in this deserted land, and Char saw the guards running back towards the cage, hatchets raised in their hands.

Char turned his head as much as he could to take a look at what was going on, but all he could see were the distressed people screaming and yelling.

“What’s going on?!” Char asked, loud enough to be heard over the shouting.

“He’s using a broken bone as a weapon!” came the answer of his friend, who was safely behind the metal bars of the second cage.

Then it all happened in an instant; the shouts of the guards mingled with the screams of the prisoners, and when the guards opened the door of the cage…the people threw themselves at them. Emaciated, sick, and hungry, but clearly outnumbering the guards, they quickly overpowered them and stole their weapons.Three slaves died in the struggle, but twenty-five or so were now free.

Some of the prisoners inside the other cages began cheering and yelling, rattling their chains and shackles on the metal bars, while others simply cowered to the back, trembling in fear.

The escaped prisoners of the third cage began to run up the ravine, only one stopped in front of Char, hatchet in hand.

Char looked at the man straight in the eye, unsure why he was worthy of the special attention, but before he could say or do anything, the man raised the hatchet and cut the ropes which bound Char’s arms and feet to the pole.

Char fell on his knees with a loud thud — eyes wide in surprise. He looked at the man, and the man looked at him, giving a light nod before he ran to catch up with the rest.

“Help us! Help us!” some of the prisoners on the other cages began to shout, making noises with their chains or their shackles, throwing themselves at the bars with frenzy.

Char didn’t understand what had just happened, or why, but he knew he had no time to waste. He tried to stand up and walk, but apparently being tied for so long had caused some of the muscles of his legs to go numb, so he crawled instead towards the bodies of the dead guards. He began searching their pockets and belts, muttering a “yes” under his breath when he found the cage keys.

He crawled back to the second cage, encouraged by the frenzied prisoners, but then a loud voice cried above the others: “Stop!”

Char lifted his head to see the old woman who had been his interpreter days before. She had moved to the front of the cage and her presence had managed to ebb the outburst of the others, whom were all subdued into silence.

“We have to hurry! We don’t have much time!” Char insisted, standing up as he could with the keys in his hand, ready to open the cage.

“You will kill us all,” the woman sentenced and Char stopped short of the keyhole.

“But this is our chance!”

“You won’t get far. Even if you escape from the Vins, there is no escaping of this land. Don’t you understand? It’s cursed! Cursed!”

“I prefer to take my chances out there, than await for death here,” Char countered, jaw clenched.

“Then go and die however you please, but leave us out of it,”

Char couldn’t understand what would drive someone to choose this life over any other alternative, but ignoring the woman’s wishes meant ignoring her free will, and that was something Char wouldn’t do.

“I’m taking the child with me, and anyone else who wants to leave,” he said with such finality that not even the woman had the courage to say anything further.

Char unlocked the door of the second cage, when suddenly a burst of pain exploded on the left side of his head and everything faded to black.

*|*|*

When Char awoke, he thought for a minute he had dreamt the escape of the prisoners, given the images he had of the event were fuzzy and incoherent, but as the fogginess lifted from his mind, not only did he remembered what had happened, he also realised he had a massive headache that made his entire skull throb. Char squinted his eyes several times, grimacing at the pain.

“Thought ye was dead after the jarl’s son hit yer head with his sling,” a voice said close to him and Char noticed this time he wasn’t alone in that pole; there was another man tied to the other side; and two more tied to the pole next to him. Char turned his head towards the cages and found them empty.

“What happened?”

“The Vins found us, that's what,” the man behind him said.

“And the others?”

“Dead,”

“All of them?” Char asked, his heart constricting on his chest as he thought about the kid.

“All the ones who got out, aye. The ones who stayed inside were mov’d in with the body slaves, back in the village,” the man sighed, “Well, we knew this could happen, we did it anyways,”

“You planned it?” Char asked after a while, noticing for the first time the splatter of blood on his ragged shirt, probably from the wound on his head.

“Aye, me and two others, overnight. Them’s dead now,”

“Why?”

“‘Casuse the Vins kill’d ‘em,”

“No, I meant...why did you plan on escaping? Why now?”

The other man seemed to reflect on it before he answered, “It was something you said to the kid, about already bein' dead. You was right, so we said, fuck it, let's do it,”

Char fell silent. He knew some of the other prisoners would listen in on their conversation, but at worst he had imagined they would tell the guards and Char would accept full responsibility for breaking the rules. He had never imagined his words could spur others into action. 

“I didn’t want you to risk your lives needlessly,” Char said truthfully, wondering if he should have tried to reach out to the other captives first, if planning with them an escape from the beginning could’ve had more chances at success.

“Wasn’t for nothing. We show’d ‘em we’d rather die than spend a moment more ‘ere,”

Char nodded, aware the other wasn't going to see him. Just when the silence had stretched on enough to consider the conversation finished, Char asked, “ Why aren’t we dead yet? Do you know what will happen to us now?”

The man laughed.

“Oh we’re dead. They’ll come kill us soon,”

*|*|*

Char heard a subtle rustling in front of him and he immediately opened his eyes. It was close to midnight and the sky was pitch dark, yet the sound kept drawing closer and Char was wide awake now, alert. He stained his eyes to try and detect the source of the sound, but then a hand tugged at his shirt as a familiar voice whispered, “Shh.” 

Char felt a surge of joy at knowing his friend was still alive.

“Hey there,” he whispered a smile tugging at his chapped lips. Char couldn’t see the boy well, so he asked, “How are you?”

“Alright, they didn’t hurt me,” the boy reassured him, a rustling sound coming from on of his pockets.

“I’ve got you some bread and water…but don’t make much noise, I couldn’t get any for the others,” the boy said and Char saw him standing on his toes, trying to reach Char so he could feed him the chunk of bread in his mouth. Char leaned down as far as he was able and managed to grab the bread with his teeth. It was almost hard as a rock, but Char swallowed it hole. It was the first time in days he ate something.

“Now drink,” the boy said, bringing a small flask of water to Char’s lips in a similar fashion. Char tried to drink from it, but he had no right angle and some of the water ended up dripping all over his chin.

“I thought the jarl’s son had killed you, but then I heard them talking about how you’ll fight One Eye tomorrow, so I knew I had to come see you,” the child said, giving him the last chunk of bread, “Don’t worry, I asked my friend to kill you quickly,”

Char almost chocked on the crumbs. He had to clear his throat before he could speak again, “That…that was considerate of you.”

“You’re a thrall now. Like us. If you surrender, they will either throw you in with the body slaves or leave you to die of your wounds. If you’re lucky, you’ll bleed before the _sjakaler_ kill you,” the child said, and Char had to admit a quick death was certainly preferable over the apparent alternatives.

“That’s twice you mention them,”

“Yeah, the _sjakaler_ are scavengers. They live in the fringes of the village. The Vins have sort of trained them, but they’re nasty things,” the boy explained.

“This One Eye…who or what is he?”

“Oh, One Eye is my friend, the one I talked to you about!”

“The beast who lives in the cage?”

“He’s no beast, he’s my friend!” the boy said defiantly and reproachfully.

“It would help me to know what it is, so I can think how to kill it,” Char said, trying to sound pragmatical.

“I don’t think you can kill him. No one can,”

“At the very least I’m allowed to try, aren’t I?” the replied, mildly offended.

The boy stared at him for a long time, as if giving his words their due consideration before finally saying “I doubt you’d manage in your condition, but if you do, make it quick too. I think he would like that,” and there was a sadness to his voice that touched a deep part within Char. Just what type of animal was this one-eyed thing?

“Okay, I will,” Char promised solemnly.

“Before you die,” the boy said — and Char really struggled to keep his face neutral — I need to ask you something,”

“Go ahead,”

“You said you were are soldier, fighting in the army for Prince Charmont, right?” the boy asked in a hush but there was a slight trembling to his voice Char couldn’t place.

“Yes, something like that,” Char said, not wanting to blatantly lie to the boy.

“Then do you know Sir Peter?” he asked him, his voice suddenly quiet and timid, almost afraid of revealing too much.

“N-no, I’m afraid I don’t,” Char said. While he was familiar with most of the sirs and the lords who have joined him, the name of Peter didn’t ring any bells. The child was obviously disappointed by his answer and Char wished he could have a different one for him.

“Why? Do you know him?” as soon as he said the words, out of instinct Char added , “Is he your father?”

The boy gasped, “Yes! We were from Frell, he used to work in the royal palace as a guard, before the war. He must be looking for me, I’m sure!” the child replied, and Char recognised the spark of hope in the child’s eyes—to return home once more, to see his family again — Char could relate.

“How did you end up here?” Char ventured. It was obvious something terrible had had to happened to the boy to end up so far away from home.

“It was an accident,” the boy said, voice quivering, “The people were fighting in the streets, burning homes…my dad..he told me to run, as fast and as far as I could…but he didn’t know….he didn’t know about…” the child managed between sobs, but seemed too overcome with emotion to say more.

Char was stunned into silence. There was something strange about the boy, that was certain, but what had truly left him speechless was that bit of information about the burnt houses. If the boy was indeed from Frell, then he could only had been referring to that time when his Uncle seized the city…six months ago.

“You…you’ve been here for six months?”

The boy lifted his head, his expression puzzled.

“Have I?”

Char didn’t know how to answer that.

“Thank you…for the water and the bread, but it’s best if you head back before they notice you’re gone,” Char said at last, the throbbing of his head spiking again.

The boy nodded slowly and was soon gone as swiftly as he had appeared.

“The kid’s right ye know. No one can kill One Eye,” the voice of his companion said suddenly behind him and Char was man enough to say it startled the shit out of him.

“Have you seen it?” he said, once his heart was back on his chest.

“Aye, hard to forget, actually. I liv’d in a small village near the forest when them Vins attack’d. They came at night, led by that infernal creature they call ‘One Eye’. He’s the only one who can find ‘is way between the forest and this place. Nose of a fuckin’ bloodhound, strength of a goddamn’d bear — kill’d almost all the men in our village by himself, we couldn’t even scratch ‘im. Then the Vins came to steal our food, our women…and the few of us left alive were brought here, to work the fields for them, but the rains have not come in many weeks, so we was rounded up in cages, left to rot,”

“But did you see what sort of beast was this One Eye?”

“One Eye’s no beast, he’s a monster,”

*|*|*

And so, on the sixth day Char found himself waiting for death to arrive — literally. He had spent almost the entire morning in relative peace, but as the afternoon began to draw near, him and the other three prisoners began to get restless, waiting for something — anything — to happen. However there was no sign of the guards, no sight of a monster in chains, no nothing.

Char took a deep breath. The whole thing was becoming maddening and losing his mind was a luxury he didn’t have. If he wanted a chance, however slim, of coming out of all this alive, Char needed to have all his wits about him.

As soon as the sun began to set over the mountains, Char noticed people began to gather around the clifftop. Women, children, the elderly…some had taken a sit on the flattest rocks, others on the ground, and some were just standing up, arms crossed; they had formed a semicircle, avoiding the farthest edge of the cliff.

The guards came down the ravine as soon as nightfall was upon them, bringing torches to light several fires and lit the area. It was then that Char saw the jarl and his son walk past all the other onlookers to take their place at the front of this makeshift arena.

The sight of the greenish bruise on the face of the jarl’s son put a smile on Char’s. The man turned his head then towards Char, but this time it was him who looked away first, making Char smile even wider.

Four guards approached the prisoners on the other pole and cut their ropes. Each pair grabbed one of the captives by the arms and held them upright. 

The sound of drums drew Char’s attention back to the ravine, and the audience began yelling and cheering as six guards more came into view, two playing the drums while the other four pulled the chains of what Char assumed was the one-eyed beast. The euphoria of the spectators increased at the rhythm of the beat of the drums.

One of the captured slaves began wailing and peed himself. The guard on his right punched him in the face, effectively shutting the prisoner up. Char closed his eyes and took a deep breath, determined not to panic. It was rather simple, really. Whatever creature they were bringing in chains he would either kill or be killed by it. There was no more to it.

The beat of the drums stopped abruptly and the people fell silent.

Resolute, Char exhaled and opened his eyes, ready to take a look at the monster — except there was no monster. It was just a man, bared from the waist up, his face covered by a sack. He was dragged to the centre of the improvised arena by the guards, who left him standing there.

The man certainly had a remarkable body — lean but rather tall and muscular — yet what caught Char’s attention the most was that every visible inch of the man’s flesh was covered in strange markings. Char couldn’t help but feel a measure of relief at One Eye being a man and not a wyvern or a cyclops, although there was no question the marked man seemed more than capable of bashing anyone’s skull against the rocks.

One of the soldiers kicked One Eye behind the knees, forcing him to kneel on the craggy ground. It was then that they began to remove the chains, hooks, and bindings that kept him restrained. One of the guards produced a long rope and tied one end to One Eye’s iron collar, and the other to one of the many rings of the now empty pole. Char noticed the only thing they didn’t remove were the shackles on One Eye’s hands and the sack over his head. Once One Eye was left in place, five out of the six guards retreated close to the jarl and his son; the other went to grab the boy and escorted him towards were One Eye was.

Char saw the kid remove the bindings of the man’s hands and the sack, then the boy promptly handed the things back to his escort. Both left the arena, the kid and Char exchanging a brief look before the kid got lost in the crowd.

The jarl took a step forward and for a moment Char thought he would give a speech, but no. The old man merely raised his hand, shouted a word, took a step back again, and then One Eye stood up, his good eye fixed on the prisoners.

The other two men seemed unable to move, and one of the guards kicked them further inside the circle, closer to One Eye. The crowd laughed. Both men shared a look before charging at the same time.

Char was about to protest the combat wasn’t fair — two men against one, who was not only tied to a pole but was also missing an eye — yet what happened in the following five minutes were images that got etched into Char’s mind forever.

The men launched at One Eye; one tackled him to the ground, the other began to kick him in the ribs. In a masterful roll, One Eye raised his leg and hooked it behind the first man’s neck and threw him to the ground, reversing their positions. Once the man was on his back, One Eye bit the neck of his opponent, ripping off a chunk of skin he immediately spat.

The second man grabbed him by the hair and began smashing One Eye’s head against the ground, while the man who had been bitten remained on the floor, grunting and holding the injured side of his neck.

One Eye used his leg to kick the second man’s leg, making him fall to his knees. He gave him a head-butt and then wound the rope of his own restrain around the man’s head. One Eye pulled at the rope as the other man’s fingers desperately sought to remove it, but it was useless; the man suddenly ceased to struggle and his arms fell limp at his sides a second later.

One Eye unwound the rope from the man’s neck and stood in the middle of the arena, chest barely panting.

Char noticed that the man on the floor wasn’t moving anymore either; One Eye had bitten his jugular and he had bled to death.

_I asked him to kill you quickly._

Char was now infinitely grateful to the boy.

The crowd went mad, cheering and yelling, and chanting a word Char thought must have meant One Eye in their language. The soldiers approached the centre of the arena, hatchets raised, and Char saw some of them were sweating just from being there. One Eye took a step back and the guards quickly gathered the corpses to drag them out.

The drum began to beat again and Char felt as if his stomach would jump out of his throat when he felt his own ropes being cut. Just like with the others, two guards grabbed each of them by the arms and kicked them inside the arena after removing their shackles.

Once more, the jarl took a step forward, shouted the same word, and…nothing. Char and his companion remained were they were, and so did One Eye. The crowd began to boo.

“Well, it was a pleasure, mate,” his companion said, before he ran towards One Eye, fist raised. In one swift motion, One Eye dodged the hit, kicked one of the man’s knees, pushing it out of the joint, and just as Char’s companion fell to the ground, One Eye grabbed him from behind and snapped his neck. 

One Eye straighten up, the lifeless body of his companion at his feet. He turned his head slowly towards Char and Char just stopped there, staring at the single brown eye staring back at him. There was a fire burning deep in that icy brown pupil, a deeply rooted anger that consumed everything around him. It was like staring into a wild fire and realising you had been caught in its centre.

A man from the audience yelled something and the crowd began to laugh and yell strange words at him. Char didn’t need to understand the language to know he was being mocked and insulted. Char’s eyes moved then to the direction he had last spotted the boy, but before he could find the kid he was tackled to the ground, his head hitting the ground with a dry thud.

Char felt his entire skull on fire. The previous wound on his head hadn’t even healed and now he was certain it had burst open again. The pain was so intense he couldn’t concentrate on anything else, until he felt a pair of strong hands holding his head by the hair, and One Eye began to repeatedly smash his skull against the ground. 

Out of instinct, Char began to hit One Eye in the ribs with his fists, trying to get him off of him. It worked. One Eye stopped his assault on his head for a second, but that was all the time Char needed to roll away from the man.

The pain was excruciating, but something within Char told him he couldn’t give up without a fight. Char managed to rise to his feet when he saw One Eye walking towards him. Just as Char raised his fist to hit the man, a fist connected with the right side of his jaw. The punch made Char tumble backwards but he regained his balance quickly, and managed to dodge the upcoming three blows.

The crowd was displeased.

Char and One Eye stood still, both staring fiercely at each other, chests panting. Char knew he was at a disadvantage; One Eye was stronger and surprisingly quick. Char himself was quicker, but he had no practice in fistfights, all his combat experience relied on a sword and a shield, and to top it all he was wounded, so there was no way he would ever defeat One Eye like this. He had to find a way to turn the tables.

As Char stood reflecting on that, One Eye began to run towards him, but this time Char reacted quickly and dodged him. He took the opening to punch One Eye in the face, one, two, three times, until One Eye countered his next punch and hit Char’s nose with his elbow. Char immediately took several steps back as he wiped away the blood dripping from his nose with his arm. 

It was then that he saw it, close to one of the fires lit near the edge of the cliff, a stick — a sharp and sturdy stick. His expression must have been too telling because Char saw One Eye turning his head to look at the same direction Char had been staring at, and when he saw One Eye’s eye widen in surprise, Char didn’t hesitate to run towards the other man and tackle him to the ground.

One Eye landed flat on his back and Char began hitting his face with his closed fists. Once he was certain he had gained a few seconds of advantage, he ran with determination towards the weapon. He was close enough to take it when One Eye grabbed him by the rags that passed as a shirt, pulled him back, and spurn him around to head-butt him. Char swung his arm back, and this time it was him who broke One Eye’s nose with his elbow. Blood began dripping to the red sand below them. The crowd gave gasps of surprise and many began murmuring and whispering to each other.

Char didn’t waste any time and got a hold on the piece of wood. This was his chance. Kill or be killed. He was ready to stab One Eye on the throat but then Char stopped. It was a moment’s hesitation what stayed his hand, a second to decide if what he was about to do was right, but before he could answer himself, One Eye grabbed him by the neck and slammed him against the ground.

All the air left Char’s lungs at once and he found himself unable to move. The grip One Eye had on his throat was relentless and Char knew this was it. This was how he died.

The last thing Char felt before a familiar darkness claimed him was One Eye grabbing the piece of wood from his hand.

/*|*|*\

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the delay, but RL job sort of got in the way. 
> 
> Thanks to all of you for your comments/kudos/reviews!! I honestly hope you like where this is going and that I don’t disappoint you.
> 
> Have a nice week!


	3. Chapter 3

Char could hear sounds and see blurry shapes, but somehow his body couldn’t move. He was aware that he was lying flat on his back and he tried to sit up, but it seemed he had forgotten how to do so. It was all very confusing.

Gradually, Char began to regain his body awareness. His body felt heavy and slow but he managed to get back on his feet. He had a terrible headache and his throat was hurting, yet as soon as his last memories flowed in, he was on alert once more.

He took a quick look of his surroundings — and forced himself to withhold a surprised gasp as he recognised the scene before him. He had no idea how long he had been unconscious, but he was certain it couldn’t have been long and yet…the clifftop was now the aftermath of a fierce and bloody battle. There were several dead bodies lying on the floor, all guards by the look of it.

 _What happened here?_ Char wondered as his eyes observed the bodies of the dead guards closest to him; one had a broken neck, the other had a piece of wood protruding from an eye…the piece of wood was unmistakably the stick Char had picked up. The very same One Eye had taken from him. Had One Eye done this? Char’s eyes reached the rope which had once tied One Eye to the pole — it was cut. 

The trail of bodies led right to the ravine, and Char was unsure of whether he was more astounded by the brutality of the killings or by the obvious skill required to perform them. Perhaps it was both. It seemed all One Eye had needed was an opportunity, which Char had inadvertently provided.

The corners of Char’s lips curved upwards. It also seemed his own opportunity had been inadvertently provided by One Eye; although Char was still wearing the shackles, leg irons, and the collar, he was no longer bound, there were no guards in sight, and the night had plunged the valley into darkness. If he was ever going to escape, it was now or never.

Despite the wheezing and the throbbing headache, Char ran as fast as he could towards the ravine. The pathway upwards, similarly to the clifftop, was scattered with dead bodies. While most of them were guards, some of the deceased were also common villagers, innocent people. Char shook his head. How truly innocent were they, when just mere moments ago all had  laughed and cheered, revelling in the spectacle of blood they had been offered? His own bitterness took Char by surprise but he didn’t allow himself to dwell on it. Once he was safe back in Kyrria — or as safe as he could be given the civil war — Char would allow himself to think about all the philosophical intricacies of morality and justice. Right now?

Char bended over and retrieved a hatchet from the dead grip of a guard — all that the cared about right now was reaching Kyrria alive and preferably in once piece.

*|*|*

Char arrived at the village to find that some houses and cabins had been set on fire. There were people running about, screaming, crying. It was a chaotic sight, but Char approached it with determination nonetheless. He went from one row of houses to the next, skimming over the people and cabins.

“Kid!” Char yelled as loud as he could. His voice sounded raspy and he had to cough and clear his throat several times, but the raw pain on his windpipe didn’t stop him.

“Kid!” He shouted louder, walking past a cabin whose roof crackled fiercely before collapsing, consumed by the flames.

“Kid!” Char was wondering where on Earth could the boy be when his mind supplied him with the answer. The healer’s cabin. If the boy was alive, there was a good chance he had tried hiding inside that hut again. Char ran as fast he could in the direction he remembered the hut was, careful to stay as out of sight as much as he could whenever he spotted a guard close by.

Char felt the rocks digging in his bare feet, but he tried his best to ignore the pain and discomfort. He knew he was close, but the area looked very different at night, and besides, he had just seen it the one time.

“Kid! Kid!” Char called again, searching every nook and cranny with his eyes, straining his ears to listen to even the slightest sound of — 

“Help!”

Char turned his head towards the source of the voice.

“Kid! Where are you?” his eyes switched frantically between two very similar huts — one on fire, the other not — trying to determine which one the voice was coming from.

“Help!” the voice came again and Char didn’t waste another second, he ran towards the one on fire. He ran around the perimeter, until he found the boy’s head peeking out from the hole in the wall.

“What’s wrong?” Char asked, relieved at having found the child.

“My leg’s stuck. Something fell on it and I can’t pull it out,” the kid said with a tinge of distress in his voice.

“It’s okay, don’t worry. I’ll…I’ll go inside and see what’s going on, okay?”

“You won’t leave me, will you?” the big brown eyes were even wider with despair.

“Of course not! I’d never…not until I get you safe and sound back home, you hear?” Char said, and he saw the kid’s expression shift from worry to utter shock. 

“You promise?”

“You have my word,” Char said and he saw the child smile, noticing for the first time he was missing one of his canines. Char seriously hoped that had to do with the normal ageing process rather than an unfortunate accident. “I won’t take long. I’ll go free your leg and meet you back here, okay?”

The child nodded and Char returned the nod. The smoke from the burnt wood was making Char’s eyes sting, but weapon raised in hand, he walked towards the door and tried the handle. Locked. Well, it never hurt to check. Char tightened his grip on the hatchet and began to break down the door, splinters flying with every blow delivered.

“I’m almost through!” Char shouted, landing a final blow to the door, which crackled open. Char walked in. The smoke inside was dense and it immediately made Char cough. He covered his nose and mouth with his free arm as he scanned the room for anything suspicious until his eyes saw a fallen beam. Luckily, it wasn’t on fire, but the others supporting the ceiling were so Char knew he had to act quickly.

Dropping the hatchet beside him, Char used both of his hands to try and lift the beam. Had he been in full health, Char would’ve moved it in a blink of an eye, as it was, the effort of pulling the sturdy wood was making the throbbing ache on his head return.

“Kid, can you hear me?” Char called loudly as he struggled not to loose his grip on the beam.

“Yes!”

“Pull out your foot on the count of three, got it?” Char instructed, breathing heavily through his nostrils, his headache spiking.

“Okay!”

“One…two…th-three!” Char grunted as he applied all his strength to lift the beam. He tried to hold it up as long as he could, but the pain on his head was too much and he let go. It seemed it had been time enough to set the boy free, however, so Char picked up the hatchet again and left the hut.

“I thought you were dead. Again,” the boy said, launching himself at Char to hug him as soon as he saw him.

“You and me both, honestly,” Char replied, surprised but overcome by the display of affection. He hugged the kid right back.

“It’s not right. You can’t keep almost dying, you hear?” the boy said, taking a few steps back, arms crossed over his chest and a frown on his face.

“I know. I’m sorry,” Char apologised half-heartedly, but when he saw a tear roll down the boy’s cheek the kid immediately wiped it away; he felt deeply moved. Char dropped to one knee so he could be at eye level with the boy and lifted an arm to pat the kid on the shoulder.

“I’ll try my best not to worry you again, okay?” Char reassured him, “But we should really get out of here,” the kid nodded enthusiastically and Char stood up again, ruffling the badly shaven head. “Is your foot alright?”

“Yeah,” the boy replied, twisting and turning his foot to prove it didn’t hurt.

“Good. We have to go north and then west to reach the Forlorn Forest. About a three-day walk, if I’m not mistaken,” Char said holding out his hand. The child took it after a moment’s hesitation.

“I’m sorry, I…don’t know the protocol with children,” Char admitted with a certain degree of embarrassment. Perhaps the boy was too big for handholding? 

“It’s fine. We have to go before they release the _sjakaler_ ,” the boy said. Then, noticing Char’s bare feet, he added, “but first, I think you need a pair of shoes, and maybe more clothes.”

*|*|*

Divesting a corpse from his shoes and clothes was the easy part. Leaving the village unnoticed, not so much. Char and the boy moved as quickly and as out-of-sight as they could, passing several huts and cabins. There were people fighting and running about — it seemed all the remaining slaves had finally rebelled against the Vins. And while Char had entertained the idea of organising the prisoners and leading a massive escape, he knew the boy and he had better chances of succeeding alone. In fact, everyone did. A large group would be easier to track and surround; several individuals traveling in different directions over a large area would certainly fare better.

They were almost out of the village when two guards spotted them and charged at them. Confident that the boy would know how to stay away from danger, Char counterattacked. He rolled between the guards to gain the upper hand and sprang to his feet, striking with a single blow the back of the head of one of them, killing him instantly. Char turned in time to block the incoming attack of the second guard and quickly hit him in the jaw with his left elbow. He then swung the hatchet with his right to cut the man’s thigh, effectively hitting the femoral vein. The guard stumbled backwards and Char yelled for the boy to come out. 

The child ran towards him and held out his hand. They had taken a couple of steps outside the village when Char felt a sharp pain on his left shoulder that made him pause. A dagger had hit him right in the shoulder blade.

“Hide!” Char said and the boy ran to to hide behind a rock. Through gritted teeth, Char pulled out the small blade and let if fall to the ground. He then turned around to see none other than the jarl, standing there, a yellowed smirk plastered on his face.

“Should leave you with women,” the jarl said in broken common tongue.

“You should’ve left me to die in the woods,” Char countered, ignoring the throbbing of his head and the sting on his shoulder.

“Mhm, that too. Not too late,” the jarl whistled and in a matter of seconds, Char found himself surrounded by seven of the jarl’s men.

“Fuck,” Char muttered under his breath, his eyes switching between each of the seven guards. Despite the wound on his shoulder, Char managed to block and counter the attacks of three of the guards, killing two with perfectly-timed slashes at their necks, and hitting the other’s face with the blunt side of the hatchet, knocking off a couple of the man’s teeth. Yet there were still five of them left, plus the jarl. Char stood his ground expectantly. 

Two of the jarl’s men attacked him at the same time. Char blocked the attack of the one closest to him and pushed him backwards, then he quickly sprang around to take a swing at the second, managing to graze the man’s face. Without wasting a breath, he dodged the axe of the toothless guard, who had rejoined the combat, and cut one of his thighs—a jet of blood springing right before him. The toothless guard fell down, clutching at his injured leg, but then one of the guards hit Char’s right side of his head with the blunt end of the axe, while other two ran to restrain both his arms.

Char was forced to his knees. He felt a hand yanking him by the hair and saw the satisfied grin on the guard’s face as he raised his hatchet, ready to cut his throat. Char closed his eyes and took a deep breath, awaiting the final blow…but it didn’t come. Char opened one of his eyes and saw the man before him gurgling, blood trickling down his mouth and chin where a wooden spear had gone through him, knocking a few teeth in the process.

The spear retracted once more and the guard fell to the ground, revealing none other than One Eye behind him, his good eye blinking away the heavy drops of blood that ran down his face from a head injury. 

The jar’s face went livid and he began yelling angrily at Char in that unfamiliar language again. The old man raised his axe, fear evident in the trembling of his hand. He then shouted something at his men, who quickly released Char and went to protect their leader.

Char felt an odd sense of relief at the sight of One Eye and he quickly took hold of his discarded hatchet, just as One Eye threw the spear at the skull of one of the three remaining guards, killing him on the spot.

Char charged at one of the other two guards, who blocked his first, second, and third attempts, but at the fourth, Char finally managed to land a blow against the other man’s jaw, almost detaching it from the face. Char turned in time to see One Eye lift the last guard and slam him down the wooden shaft of the spear protruding from the other dead guard. 

One Eye turned to look at Char, and both then turned to look at the jarl. The jarl tightened his grip on his axe and bared his teeth.

The old man said something which made One Eye clench his jaw, and Char lifted his hatchet, ready to attack but then One Eye flashed his palm at Char, asking him to stop. Baffled, Char lowered his weapon.

The jarl smirked at their exchange. He approached One Eye cautiously as One Eye stood there, his eye fixed impassively on the older man, chest rising and falling at a controlled speed. It all happened so fast Char could’ve sworn he would’ve missed it if he blinked. The jarl swung his axe, One Eye dodged it without much effort and punched the old man on the throat. The man fell to his knees, gasping for breath, and when he saw One Eye approach, he began to crawl away.

Slowly and almost too casually, One Eye picked up the jarl’s axe from the ground and stood over the old man. One Eye lifted the axe, examined the blade, and certain now that the bit was indeed sharp, he grabbed it with both hands and from a single blow separated the old man’s head from the rest of his body.

With one hand, One Eye grabbed the severed head from the ground by the hair and walked with it a few steps, until he reached the spear he had previously used to pierced two guards. He then lifted the head and stuck it on the spike. The marked man stood there, contemplating his work, and Char took advantage of the apparent distraction to back away, slowly.

Char reached the rock behind which he had seen the boy hide, but before he could take another step he felt a cold gaze piercing right through him. Char felt like the prey who suddenly was aware of the predator nearby, and turned his head towards One Eye.

“I’ve no quarrel with you,” Char said, dropping his hatchet. One Eye stared at the hatchet on the ground and then back at Char, “I just want to go home,” Char said, not knowing what else he could do. If One Eye attacked him, Char was going to defend himself — but he wholeheartedly hoped that wouldn’t be the case.

Just then the boy leaped out of his hiding spot and Char saw One Eye’s shoulders tense.

“Don’t hurt him!” Char warned loudly, reaching the boy with his hand and shielding him behind him. The hoarseness of his voice had made him sound even more threatening than usual.

One Eye stared at Char, then back at the boy, then back at Char, and Char swore he saw an amused smile appear on his lips.

“What the—”

“It’s alright. I told you he was my friend, didn’t I?” the boy said, coming from behind Char to step between the two men, and then he spoke on the other language, this time turning towards One Eye, whose brown eye regarded him for a full thirty seconds before he finally seemed to relax.

“What did you say to him?”

“I told him you were my friend too,”

Char was disconcerted by the degree of familiarity and ease with which the kid treated One Eye, and wondered then if the child was able to truly understand what One Eye was capable of.

“We should get going,” Char stressed, highly aware that One Eye had not once stopped looking at him.

“No, wait!” the boy said, and addressing One Eye, the kid said something more which sounded awfully like a question to Char’s ears.

“I asked him to help us reach the Forest, ‘cause he’s been there before and he knows the way,” the boy added and Char suddenly felt a shiver running down his back.

 _Of course he’s been there before, he led the Vins there to pillage the towns past it!_ Char thought bleakly, but he didn’t dare utter it out loud, regardless of whether One Eye understood his language or not.

“No, it’s fine, we can manage on our own,” he said, taking the boy by the hand and dragging him away.

“But he knows the way!” the kid insisted, trying to break Char’s hold on his hand.

“The boy and I will manage,” Char insisted, this time looking at One Eye, hoping the determination behind his words was able to shine through the apparent language barrier.

The boy let out an exasperated huff and refused to take a step more, “Stop being so hardheaded! One Eye can help us! And stop calling me a boy! I’m a girl!”

Char’s retort died on his lips and he actually did a double-take at that.

“W-what?” he blurted out, looking at the child, then back at One Eye, who looked at him with a combination of disbelief and ridicule.

The boy —the girl— shook Char’s hand away from her and walked to stand by One Eye.

“He will help us,” the girl said with such a conviction Char began to actually entertain the idea.

“How can you be so certain? How do you know he won’t murder us in our sleep?”

The girl looked up at One Eye and then looked at Char, “I can’t…I can’t really explain. I just…I feel it. He could’ve killed me many times before, but he didn’t. He could’ve killed you tonight, but he let you live,”

Char bit his lower lip, considering her words.

“He also knows how to put the _sjakaler_ off the scent,” the girl added.

One Eye huffed and began walking away from the village, the girl trailing merrily behind him. Char blamed the repeated blows to his head for consenting to such an insane proposal and with a heavy sigh, he followed after the girl.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were a girl?” Char asked once he caught up to them.

“I thought you knew,”

Char began to stutter a poor excuse for a reply but mercifully the girl cut him short, “It’s the hair, isn’t it?”

“N-no. It’s me. I’m an idiot. Please accept my heart-felt apologies, my lady,”

“Urgh, no need to over do it,”

“Fine. Do you think you can tell me your name now?” Char asked, remembering that first time when he had tried a similar question.

“Yeah, I think you’re not a stranger anymore. I’m Ella,”

“Nice to meet you, Ella. I’m Char,” Char said, thinking how odd it was they were just exchanging such basic information.

“Char? Like the Prince Char?”

“Y-yes, like the Prince,” Char wanted to say it then, tell her he was the Prince, but he just couldn’t find the right words.

“He knows you’re a girl, too, right?” Char asked instead, his eyes never leaving the back of One Eye.

“Of course he does,” Ella replied. As if on cue, One Eye turned his head to look at them over his shoulder.

“We’re falling behind, we should hurry,” the girl said and both quickened their pace.

/*|*|*\

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And One Eye will finally feature more prominently from now on, I swear. Thanks a lot guys for your feedback! I’ve had a couple of crazy weeks, but I do hope I can finally fall back on my intended schedule of updating every Friday/Saturday.
> 
> Have a nice weekend!


	4. Edgar Interlude I

Edgar traced the rim of his wine glass with a finger and slowly raised his eyes across the table to meet the inscrutable stare of Sir Robert.

“I confess myself baffled,” Edgar said, leaning further back on his chair, hands clasped, “I summon my beloved nephew and who arrives in his stead? Sir Robert! My erstwhile captain of the guard,” Edgar made a pause to take a sip of his red wine, “I trust dear Char is doing okay?”

The corners of Sir Robert’s lips pulled tightly into a polite smile. “Rest assured, Sir Edgar, the Prince is quite alright. Just a cold, I’m afraid. Nothing he won’t recover from,” he replied without skipping a heartbeat.

“I see,” Edgar said, taking another sip from his wine. Just as silence had begun to stretch for too long, Edgar stood up from his chair and walked towards the closest window, aware that his movements were being followed closely by the other man.

 “It’s no secret the people are getting tired of the war, you know? Peasants, merchants, the nobles…everybody is looking forward to hearing it is finally over,” Edgar crossed his hands over his chest, his eyes fixed on the icy mountain range before him. “When was the last time you were home, Sir Robert?”

“I have the good fortune of having my family with me at Frell castle,” Sir Robert replied, a hint of wariness in his voice.

“Should all men be so lucky,” Edgar replied with a smile, turning around to face Sir Robert, “Imagine if you could tell your men the war is over,”

“One day I intend to do so,”

“What if that day were today?” Edgar countered, lips drawing a smug smile at the look of disbelief written in Sir Robert’s features. 

“You…would surrender?” the burly man asked, eyes wide. There was a gleam of hope reflected in his brown pupils that delighted Edgar to no end. He walked back to the table but he didn’t sit back. He stood right behind Sir Robert and placed both hands on his shoulder, “No. You will,”

The shock was such that the man’s eyebrows almost reached his receding hairline and he jerked himself away from the touch.

“The nerve! To extend an invitation here, so you can—” he began irate, but Edgar interrupted him with a hand gesture.

“Please,” Edgar began, not at all offended and very much calmed, “We both know you’re currently in a very precarious situation. With my darling nephew…sick, as you put it, how long do you think you can keep the war going? If you surrender, _now_ , I’ll make sure neither you nor your men are punished for treason. Most of you will be discharged, some of you exiled, but isn’t that better than having an appointment with the executioner at the gallows?”

“You bastard! It was you, wasn’t it? What did you do to him?!” Sir Robert demanded, slamming his fist in the table as he stood up, eyes defiant.

“I’d be more careful if I were you, Sir Robert; that is a very serious accusation and I’m not sure how wise it is to point the finger at the man who will soon be king,”

“What did you do to him?” Sir Robert asked again, calmer this time but his voice still sounded strained.

“Me? Last I heard of him he was traveling far south, wasn’t he? I was under the impression it was during this trip he caught his terrible cold, though maybe he encountered bandits on the road. Who knows? The southern border is a very dangerous place.”

Sir Robert stared at him in silence. Edgar saw the rainbow of emotions flash across the other man’s face as he went from anger and indignation to resignation.

“I need time,” Sir Robert proclaimed at last.

“Time is a luxury you don’t have and I won’t make this offer twice,”

“I need time,” Sir Robert repeated more decidedly.

Edgar looked at him intently. By all means, Sir Robert should have accepted the offer in a heart beat; his hesitation could only mean one thing — which Edgar didn’t want to consider.

“Very well. You have until sunset tomorrow. If you fail to return with a forthcoming answer, I’ll publicly denounce the disappearance of the Prince and we’ll see how well that goes for you and the so-called loyalists,” he said, trying to sound as confident as he had been a minute ago.

Sir Robert had the eyes of a wild beast which had suddenly become aware it had been caged, and Edgar revelled in every second of that look.

There was no polite farewell. Sir Robert simply marched towards the wooden double-doors of the main hall and was let out by the soldiers guarding the door.

As soon as Sir Robert walked out, a tall and thin  man dressed in dark green entered the Hall. Edgar wasn’t quite expecting him, but his presence could only mean one thing…

“Ah, Heston! Please tell me you found him!” Edgar said, welcoming his trusted advisor and current captain of his armies.

“Your Majesty, we found him. He’s waiting for you downstairs in the library,” Heston announced with a hissing lisp.

“Let’s pay our ghost a visit, shall we?”

*|*|*

Edgar walked with determination towards the library, the black heels of his boots resounding in the stone hallways of the Mountain Fortress — a shithole, in Edgar’s opinion, but the only place where he had managed to fend off the armies of Sir Robert since their failed attempt at laying siege to Frell.

Heston followed him close by, recounting the highlights of his trip to the south, which Edgar was just half-listening to. He was more concerned about the man awaiting for them in the library and the information he carried with him.

Both men went down a long spiral staircase and found themselves at the doors of the library — which had a startling resemblance to a dungeon, but Edgar loved just that about the room.

“He seemed very unwilling to cooperate when we were escorting him here,” said Sir Heston, closing the door behind them. Edgar took a quick look at the man bound to one of the chairs and, satisfied, turned to look at his advisor.

“Let’s hope he’s had time to change his mind,”

Edgar approached the man bound to the chair and smiled as soon as the man raised his head to look at him.

“Well, well, the elusive Sir Mallory,” Edgar greeted him, “Imagine my surprise when I heard you had all perished in the Forlorn Forest at the hands of bandits. You gave me quite a scare, you know?”

“Apologies, sir, I mean, Y-Your Majesty,” the man stammered. Edgar gave him a quick look over, trying to find any sign of deadly wounds or injuries. Besides the bruises and scraps probably caused by his own men, Edgar couldn’t find anything else.

“And Sir Heston here says you refused to tell them what happened. So as you can see, I’m slightly troubled by this development in our arrangement,” Edgar stated as he began to pace back and forth in front of the knight, “You see, when I asked you to lead Char to the ambush site in the Forest and to then come back and bring news of his tragic fate, I was expecting you to to deliver…just as I did when I paid your not so inconsiderable debts,”

“I…yes, Your Majesty,”

“So, please don’t keep us in suspense. Is he dead?” Edgar asked, stopping his pacing right in front of the man. His blue eyes fixed on Sir Mallory.

“Y-yes,”

Edgar mouth twisted in disappointment, “You don’t sound so certain. Perhaps we’ll have to refreshen your memory,” Edgar said and gave a quick tilt with his head. Heston approached Sir Mallory from the back and gave the knight’s head a rough shove.

“I-I swear! Y-you said you wanted the Prince dead, he’s dead!” Sir Mallory babbled.

“Then explain how all the bandits ended up dead and his body missing,” Edgar demanded.

“I…I…t-the Prince turned out to be a b-better swordsman than anticipated...b-but he was badly injured in the fight a-and he died of his wounds,”

Edgar rearranged his big golden ring with the red rubies and closed his fist. Punching Sir Mallory hurt but seeing the other man cower in fear made it worth it.

“You lie. No, no, no, please, allow me to explain. I have nothing against liars or cheaters, they are a resourceful bunch, very useful,” Edgar began, shaking off his hand, “No, Sir Mallory, what bothers me is when those liars and cheaters think they can cheat and lie to me.”

“I’m..I’m not-”

“Shhh, please. I’ll give you one last chance to think about this very carefully,” Edgar made a pause, allowing Sir Mallory to focus on his words, “Did you see my dear nephew Char die?” Edgar asked, enunciating every word carefully.

“Y-yes!”

“You did, huh?” Edgar suddenly placed both of his hands in the armrests of the chair, bringing his face as close to Sir Mallory as he could without actually brushing foreheads, “Did you take his hand and felt his dwindling pulse stop? Did you put your head on his chest and heard his last heartbeat? Did you see those beautiful big eyes of his close to never wake up again? Did you?!” Edgar punched him again before stepping back.

The man whimpered and closed his eyes, his breath ragged.

“No, _you_ did _not_ , _”_ Edgar chided, shaking his hand off again. Sir Heston reached him almost in a stride and took Edgar’s hand in his and began to massage the injured knuckles and fingers. Edgar rolled his eyes and immediately shook Heston’s hands away from his. Regaining his composure once more, he addressed Sir Mallory again.

 _“_ Do you know how I know you didn’t see him die? Because if dear Prince Char were dead, Sir Robert wouldn’t have hesitated to accept the offer I made to him today. Instead, he asked for time. That means he has recovered no body to mourn, that means he is still hoping to find Char alive somewhere…and that means you have lied to me, more than once,”

“But, but…I saw the Vins take him!” Sir Mallory sputtered. 

Edgar had to laugh at that. “H-Heston did I hear that right? The Vins?” Heston smiled, but it seemed quite forced.

“Y-yes! The Vins!” the bound man insisted.

Edgar laughed again, “W-what? The half-beast half-human creatures who live in the Cursed Land and eat human flesh? Those Vins?” Edgar asked mockingly, “Did they also came flying on a dragon?”

“N-no. But I saw them. They came from the other side of the forest, f-from the South! They came a-and they took the Prince. I saw them!”

“No one lives in the other side of the forest. The Vins all died almost a century ago when the last Vin King awoke the dragon sleeping in Mount Valhalla and scorched his entire land,” Heston chimed in.

“But they came from there, I swear!”

Edgar shook his head. There had been once a kingdom to the south called Vinland, that much was true, but Heston had been right. All there was to Vinland now were the stories of monsters and dragons they told children in Kyrria to scare them into obedience.

“I saw them! They took him! There’s no way he can still be alive,” Sir Mallory kept insisting and Edgar knew his patience had reached its limit.

“I don’t care whether a ghost, a ghoul, or a giant took him! All I need right now is the certainty that my much beloved nephew will never show his face in this land again…and that’s not something you can give to me right now, is it?”

“Y-your Majesty, please!” Sir Mallory implored.

“Do you want his head on a spike?” Sir Heston asked, pulling out his sword.

“Not here, you idiot! You’ll ruin the furniture!” Edgar scolded and Heston holstered his weapon again, “In fact, I think Sir Mallory has just won himself a promotion. He’s to be reassigned to Malpast,”

“What?” Both the prisoner and Heston exclaimed at the same time.

Edgar turned slightly to address Sir Mallory, “Once the crown sits on my head, I’ll think about forgiving you for this slight, yet in the meantime I want you there, in the last Kyrrian town to the south, making sure no apparition resembling my nephew comes to haunt me,”

“I will, your Majesty. Thank you!” Sir Mallory sobbed, nodding vigorously.

Edgar then took Heston by the elbow and dragged him to one of the farthest corners of the library.

“You’re going to see her?” Heston asked, recognising that look in Edgar’s face.

“Oh Heston, I know you don’t trust her but she hasn’t let us down so far. Her guidance was the only thing which stopped us from being massacred six months ago when we tried to take Frell,”

“And here I thought we’d been saved by my clever retreat strategy and the men Lord Skelton brought to our rescue,” Heston replied with no uncertain derision.

“Careful, Heston, nobody likes a smart-ass. If you were that clever we wouldn’t have retreated that day. But that’s beside the point. What I mean to say is that we got Lord Skelton on our side thanks to her. And right now? I need to see her. I need to know the brat’s missing body will not be a problem,” Edgar unconsciously clenched his jaw and Heston lifted a hand to pat him on the shoulder.

“I’ll have our horses ready,” Heston said with resignation.

“No. You’ll stay here and make sure Mallory reaches Malpast undetected. We’re so close, Heston, and I don’t want more surprises.”

/*|*|*\

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And this was Edgar’s interlude. There will only be two, don’t fret. I’ll return with our boys and girl in the next chapter ;). It’s just that I’ve always believed a hero (or heroes) is only as good as his villain and the story needed a bit of Edgar’s perspective.
> 
> Thanks to all of you who have left kudos and comments!! I'm terrible at writing replies but know I'm grateful for all the feedback I've received so far :D


	5. Chapter 5

Char scratched his beard as if he were a dog with fleas and tried not to grimace at the thought. The sweat of his skin mixed with the crusts of dried blood and the fact that he hadn’t showered or shaved in weeks didn’t help with the itching, but after escaping the Vin settlement there had been more pressing matters to worry about — like not dying of hunger or thirst. 

At least his injuries were healing now, despite he was still wearing too much iron for his liking. While they had managed to cut the links of the leg irons and cuffs, removing the rest had required equipment none of them had, yet it didn’t really matter. Once they were back in Kyrria, Char, Ella, and One Eye could go see a blacksmith and have the last physical reminders of their days as slaves removed.

Speaking of One Eye, Char had to admit — much to his dismay — that taking the marked man as their guide had been a smart choice, even if Char hadn’t actually had a say in the matter. One Eye was familiar with the few sources of water in the region and knew how to find edible plants and hunt small animals in an otherwise dead land. And while their meals were no feast, they were certainly above stale bread and rotten vegetables.

Char couldn’t help but sneak a discreet look at the man himself as One Eye finished eating his roasted rodent. Although Char was nowhere near to trusting him, he had, at least, stopped worrying about being murdered in his sleep…if only to actually get some rest. Knowing that One Eye was capable of killing them both, Ella and him in the blink of an eye had kept Char awake the first time they’d found a spot to lie down for a while, almost immediately after their escape.

Char had spent the reminder of that night and a few hours of the morning keeping a watchful eye over One Eye, his hand on his hatchet, ready to strike a blow at the slightest sign of movement. One Eye hadn’t even turned. The marked man had awoken exactly in the same position he had fallen asleep, except that he had been visibly more rested while Char had felt like crap. 

The following night Char had been willing to do a repeat of last time, but he’d been so tired he’d fallen dead to the world the instant he sat down, only to be awoken by the smell of roasted serpent and to the sight of Ella combing One Eye’s badly chopped-off hair with her fingers as she retied the longer strands in a bun a moment later.

It was then Char decided to stop worrying. Their journey was dangerous and taxing enough, and he needed to rest to recover his strength. This newfound acceptance didn’t mean Char trusted One Eye, though. Had all this happened to Char four or five years ago, he had no doubt he would’ve followed the man across this barren land blindly…but Char liked to think he now knew better than to place his trust too quickly in people.

If the man who had become like a father to him had still betrayed him, what could Char expect from the marked man? Not only was One Eye most likely a Vin himself, he’d also led the others to the Kyrrian towns in the south, he’d killed the innocent people living there, and he hadn’t hesitated to turn on his own countrymen either. Could Char truly ever trust a man like that, who, on top of all, didn’t even bother to utter a single word?

“What’s wrong?” asked Ella all of the sudden next to him and Char shook his head.

“Nothing, why?”

“You furrowed your brows, like this,” Ella said, perfectly mimicking Char’s expression. Char ruffled the head of the girl with an amused expression on his face.

“It’s…nothing. Finish eating, I assume we’ll be leaving soon,” Char said, noticing One Eye had finished eating and was beginning to erase the signs of their campfire.

*|*|*

A couple of hours after hitting the road again, Char noticed the terrain around them had begun to change — drastically. The tall mountain ranges and steep lands were becoming increasingly taller around them, to the point the horizon was completely blocked by walls of dark brown and black rocks. The overall temperature too had increased a couple of degrees — reaching the point where it was past comfortable. As for the vegetation, which had been scarce before, it was almost non-existent here. It took Char a couple of hours to realise they’d been walking at the bottom of a canyon. Char didn’t like it. He didn’t like it one bit.

With his arm, he wiped away the sweat from his forehead and turned to look at Ella, to make sure the girl was okay. Her rosy cheeks and glazed eyes told him she had begun to feel the change in temperature too.

“It’s gotten a bit hotter, don’t you think?” Char said, offering her a confident smile, although he didn’t feel confident in their situation at all.

“Yeah,” Ella said weakly, nodding, “It’s the volcano. We’re close to it,”

“The volcano?”

“Mount Valhalla. You’ve heard the tales, right?”

Yes. Char had heard the tales. When he’d been much younger, Uncle Edgar had told him quite a few times he’d abandon Char in the Forlorn Forest so the dark creatures of the Cursed Land could come for him and eat him alive if he didn’t behave (which, according to Char, had been terribly unfair as he had always been on his best behaviour). But childhood fears aside, Char had grown up and learnt all the tales had been lies. No one in Kyrria actually knew what had happened to Vinland, their erstwhile trading partner and ally. According to the records in History books, it just happened one day; the earth shook, the skies roared and turned orange, and the few Vins who had managed to escape to Kyrria spoke of a furious dragon who’d come and scorched their land. 

The scouts Kyrria had sent seldom returned and the ones who did claimed there was nothing left alive in the kingdom. It was then that Kyrria’s Queen forbade all her citizens from venturing beyond the southern border of the Forlorn Forest. Many claimed Vinland had been punished for banishing magic, others said it was the greed of the last Vin King which condemned the kingdom. Nobody had known for certain.

“Are you going to tell me there’s also a dragon?” Char scoffed.

“I don’t know, I didn’t see it. But I did see Mount Valhalla, when I first came here. It’s very tall and big, it covers all the sky and the top is always on fire,”

“You saw it?” Char asked incredulous.

“Yeah. I was very scared, and hungry, and tired from all the running. I think I fainted then, because the next thing I remember is being in the village. The only thing I know is that it was One Eye who found me. He saved me,”

Char looked towards One Eye, ready to retort that perhaps the man’s intention hadn’t been quite to save her, but then he noticed the said man had suddenly stopped walking and Char immediately forgot his conversation with Ella.

“What is it?” Char asked, getting closer to One Eye, yet the man brought a finger to his lips and asked him to keep quiet. Char did. Ella perked her head up at the same time the sound of faint voices carried over to them.

“Ella, go hide!” Char whispered and Ella immediately did as she was told. Char had to hand it to the girl, she was a very obedient one.

“Where?” Char muttered to One Eye and the man tilted his head slightly forwards. The voices seemed to be getting closer and Char readied his hatchet.

One Eye quickly scanned the area and ran to lay flat against one rock projecting from the canyon wall. Char did the same. If One Eye was upset of bothered by his presence, he didn’t show it.

A few minutes later, four men appeared in front of them — Vins. Given their reduced number and the attire, Char assumed they had met with a scouting party. Moreover, this Vins didn't look tired and seemed well fed, which meant they had probably set a camp somewhere not far from there.

Out of the corner of his eye, Char saw One Eye climb up the rock which served them as cover, almost like a predator who was seconds away from jumping at its prey. Once One Eye had reached a height above eye level, he threw himself at the two scouts on the left, grabbing the head of one of them firmly with one hand as he fell and smashing the man’s skull hard against the ground.

Clenching his teeth, Char charged at the ones on the right, taking advantage of their momentary confusion. He head-butted one of the men and quickly took a swing of his axe to slit his throat. As the man fell dead to the ground, a pair of hands grabbed Char by the hair and threw him against the rocks. The craggy surface dug into Char’s back but before the Vin scout could trap him there, Char kicked the man on the chest and made him fall to the ground. With a single blow of his hatchet, Char bluntly hit the head of the scout. If Char had had a sword instead of a hatchet, he would’ve just pierced the man’s heart to finish him off but his current weapon lacked the finesse required for such a solution.

Char let out a grunt as he dislodged the blade from the man’s head, the motion joined by the unmistakable sound of broken bone. He cleaned the bit on the man's clothes and put the hatchet back on his improvised scabbard, then he turned to look at One Eye, who had effectively dispatched of the remaining scout and was currently bent over the dead body, sniffing at the scout’s clothes and hands. Char raised an eyebrow, mildly puzzled by the bizarre actions but quickly dismiss it as part of the wild man’s oddities.

“Ella! You can come out now!” Char yelled. Then, to his horror, he saw One Eye dug the blade of a knife in the dead scout’s abdominal cavity and split him open. With careful precision, the marked man began to remove the organs and intestines.

“What the hell?” Char snapped.

One Eye gathered the organs and guts in a piece of cloth he’d also retrieved from the body and tied the ends in a knot. He rose to his feet, taking the unusual package with him.

Char and One Eye stared at each other in complete silence for a couple of seconds — Char trying to figure out what exactly was happening while One Eye stood there, impassive.

"We're not eating that," Char stated firmly, at a loss of another possible explanation. The nostrils of One Eye flared and his brown eye turned cold before he turned his back to Char and began walking away.

“Hey!” Char yelled after him, walking as fast as he could to catch up to One Eye. He gave him a rough shove on the shoulder, which immediately got One Eye’s attention and made the marked man spin around.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Char shouted, not really caring if his words were being understood or not. Words weren’t needed to convey irritation, as One Eye proved when he clenched his jaw and let out a loud, angry huff.

“You heard me. What the fuck is this?!” Char shoved One Eye again. One Eye’s upper lip began to curl in a snarl and his good eye narrowed. Char was familiar with that expression — he’d seen it not that long ago in the improvised arena when One Eye had been intent on killing him. Despite recognising the clear intent behind the glare, Char didn’t back down.

“Whatever it is you think you’ll do with that, you won’t. Understood?” Char stressed firmly. 

The brown iris was now a murderous glare and the upper lip kept twitching. Char was certain they were second away from spilling blood when a tug on Char’s clothing made both men stop.

“Don’t!” Ella exclaimed, almost pleading, as she got between the two.

“Ella, this is none of your business,” Char said, suddenly afraid for her. While he didn’t care to fight One Eye — to the death if needed be — the thought of the girl getting hurt was simply out of the question.

“Stop!” Ella shouted, this time pulling at One Eye’s pants — for he was still naked from the waist up. One Eye grunted and let the guts and organs fall, the knot of the cloth undoing itself when it reached the ground, spilling all its bloody contents messily on their feet.

Ella also seemed to be taken aback by the gruesome sight but she said nothing. She just stared at One Eye as the man walked away, clearly fuming.

“I just wanted an explanation, that’s all!” Char erupted, feeling like kicking or punching something but finding nothing he could use.

“He doesn’t talk!” Ella said reproachfully.

“Yes, I know. That’s exactly what I’m saying!”

“No, I mean, he _can’t_!”

In the two nights and one day and a half they had been traveling together not once did Char wonder why One Eye had never talked back despite Ella constantly talking to him in Vin. In fact, Char had never wondered much about the other man at all. He’d only cared that One Eye behaved and…

And then it sunk in…that Char had truly never seen One Eye as a person; he’d addressed him like one, sure, but he’d only thought of him as a deadly thing which had little self-control. A beast.

Char’s anger faded away and was soon replaced by shame. He quickly searched for One Eye with his eyes but the man was nowhere to be found. Char sighed.

Remembering the stories Ella had recounted to him during their journey about the many tortures and punishments the Vins liked to inflict upon their prisoners, Char knew the question was worth asking.

“Was it…Did the Vins do it?”

Ella looked at him, her brown eyes sad and tired.

“I don’t know. Sometimes they cut the tongues of those who talk, but he still has his. I saw it a few times when I had to feed him and the Vins didn’t remove his shackles,” Ella replied with a stiffness in her voice and Char wondered if she was angry at him for having angered One Eye.

“What about the eye?”

“He only had the one when I met him…and the markings,”

Char wondered for the first time what sort of life the man he knew as One Eye had led before he had fallen prisoner to the Vins — or whether slavery and cruelty had been all he’d ever known. The grimness of both prospects just added to the realisation that Char would probably never know…because the only one who could provide the answers couldn’t talk. 

“What was he trying to do, with…the organs?” Char asked after a long silence.

“I don’t know,” Ella confessed, “but he must’ve had his reasons to do what he did.”

*|*|*

Almost two hours after being gone, One Eye returned to the place where the three of them had walked straight into the Vin patrol, naked torso glistening with sweat and blood — some kind of bird of prey clutched tightly on his hand. Most likely their dinner.

Ella was the first to welcome the marked man and was quick to offer him their greatest find of the day: leather flasks filled with water. After One Eye had left, Char and her had searched for the camp Char was certain couldn’t be far from where they had encountered the scouting party and found the water reserves — which, according to Char’s calculations — could last them for an entire day if they were careful.

One Eye drank the water offered and wiped his mouth with his hand — still covered in dried blood too — before returning the flask to Ella.

Truth be told, a part of Char had actually doubted they would see the marked man again but given the recent…events…Char didn’t have it in him to voice that thought and had actually agreed to wait for him, until sunset if needed be. He was just glad it hadn’t taken that long.

Char ran a hand through his hair and grimaced at how matted it was — one of his fingers getting stuck in a tangle. He looked at One Eye, who was pointedly avoiding looking at him, and took a deep breath. Picking up a pair of clothes he had carefully folded beside him, Char handed them over to the marked man.“Here, these should fit you.”

One Eye took the clothes and examined them — a grey tunic and a leather vest, together with a scabbard. Lifting his gaze from the clothes, he stared back at Char, an unreadable expression in his eye.

 _At least it’s not the dead glare_ , Char though for himself and then, knowing he had to the right thing, he cleared his throat before saying: “ _Undskyld_.”

One Eye actually looked surprised at that and Char fell the corners of his lips curve upwards in a smile. One Eye turned to look at Ella, who smiled a toothless grin. She then told One Eye something that made the man snort.

“What did you tell him?”

“That I did my best with the pronunciation but you’re hopeless.”

*|*|*

Sunset was once more upon them and like the previous days, One Eye had already found the perfect spot for them to make camp. This time it was another shallow cave formed by the rocks around them.

Contrary to the rest of the day, the temperature was descending fast and Char found himself crossing his arms over his chest, trying not to shiver. While he had managed to grab better clothing for himself and Ella from another of the dead scouts, their current attire was nowhere near enough to fend of the cool air which was beginning to blow.

Luckily, they wouldn’t have to endure it much longer. One Eye had found several twigs from a dead tree and with the knife he’d taken from the scout he carved a pointy end in one them, then began to drill a hole in an other with the friction of his hands. Once the hole was complete, he cut a notch into the hole with his knife. Once the notch was ready, he placed another dried piece of wood below the notched piece and began to spin the stick as quickly as he could.

Smoke began to form quickly and Char saw a red ember flashing before them. One Eye took out a tinder bundle from his pant’s pockets and carefully transferred the ember. And lo and behold, they had fire.

“He makes it look so easy,” Ella said, sitting next to the fire as Char and One Eye set a few rocks around it. Once their fire was secure, One Eye began to pluck the bird while Char sharpened three of the unused twigs which would now serve them as skewers.

The sky had turned dark by the time the food was ready to be eaten but this was the best meal they’d had by far. The bird didn’t have much meat on its bones yet it was tastier than the rodents or the snakes.

“Do you think the war will be over when we return?” Ella said between bites with a hint of optimism, not noticing Char had stood very still.

 _I hope not_ , he thought. In truth, this was a possibility that with each passing day became one step closer of becoming a reality — the surrendering of his men. He’d been gone for ten, eleven days now? And while he had no doubt Sir Robert would not rest until he found his body and that he would try to hide the fact that the Prince was…well, missing, Char doubted the nobles backing them would be as patient. And what could be said about his uncle? As soon as Edgar learned of his disappearance, he would swiftly made his move to claim the throne and there would be none left to oppose him.

Char brought a hand to his face and pinched the bridge of his nose, squinting his eyes shut. Would his uncle spare his men? Or would he send them all marching to the gallows for treason? What about the people of Frell? Would his uncle raise the taxes as punishment for not supporting him? Would he truly kill all the magical creatures and prohibit magic as he’d claimed he would?

“Char?”

The question brought him back from his thoughts and Char turned to look at Ella.

“I’m sorry, you were saying?”

“I asked you if you think the war will be over when we return?”

“I don’t know,” Char said, “ You better go to sleep, Ella, we have a long day ahe— ” the words hadn’t even finished leaving his mouth when he girl closed her eyes and, sure enough, fell asleep. Odd, Char had to admit, but then again, maybe she had been truly exhausted.

He turned to look at One Eye, who moved closer to the child to rearrange her in a more comfortable position, further deep inside the cave.

“Well you certainly seem to be fond of her.”

One Eye narrowed his eye as if Char had just accused him of murder.

“Relax, I’m not saying anything bad about you,” Char clarified, despite being fully aware of the barrier language between them. 

One Eye just arched and eyebrow and then leaned back against a couple of rocks, trying to  make himself as comfortable as he could.

Maybe it was exhaustion what propelled Char to keep talking, maybe it was his lingering guilt, yet regardless of the reason, Char found himself opening his mouth once more as he too tried to find a comfortable position to sleep in.

“I’m really sorry, about what happened earlier. I…I didn’t know that you couldn’t…well, _talk_ , so…that’s that. But you honestly can’t blame me, can you? I mean, what you did to the dead man, and the fact that you almost killed me — actually, I’m not sure why you didn’t, kill me, that is, but that’s not the point. What I’m poorly trying to say is that…I don’t trust you,” Char said, but it was more of a statement rather than a recrimination. In response, he'd only managed to get One Eye to crack his good eye open, although he looked as impassive as always.

Char went on, undeterred.

“So yeah, I’ve said it. I don’t trust you. But she trusts you and right now…” Char let out a huff, “…right now you’re our only hope of getting out of here, so I’ve decided to give you the benefit of the doubt.” 

Char turned his head to stare at One Eye. One Eye slowly turned his to meet his gaze. They stared at each other for what seemed like hours until Char noticed the brown eye had moved from his eyes to his neck. Char found the gesture strange until he remembered One Eye had almost chocked him to death. Perhaps the marks were showing? Or was One Eye looking at the iron collar?

Finding the sudden attention a bit unnerving, Char turned his back to One Eye and closed his eyes. Before sleep claimed him, however, Char had the distinct impression the marked man had kept staring at him the whole time.

/*|*|*\

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I’ve no excuse for the delay. Just know that I’m terribly sorry.
> 
> Thank you for all your feedback and have a great week!


	6. Chapter 6

It was a scream which made Char jolt awake. He took a quick look around and, for a moment, he couldn’t recognise his surroundings. He just sat there, confused, amidst the shadows, trying to figure out where he was and whether the scream he’d heard had been real or part of a dream. He focused on the last thing he could remember — the cave, the desert — and then the memories of the last few days began to rush back to him. Char let out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding.

 _I’m going mad_ , he thought tiredly. The only thing he was still uncertain of was the scream. The sound had been so shrill that even mostly unconscious the hairs on the back of his neck had stood on end. 

His eyes, now better accustomed to the darkness of their temporary shelter, looked for anything strange or out of the ordinary. He quickly located Ella and One Eye. The girl was hugging her knees as she rocked back and forth while the marked man stood near the entrance of the cave. Char was about to ask them if they had heard it too when another scream cut through the stillness of the night and resounded in the hollowed walls of the cave. He was able to recognise the sound this time. It had the same piercing quality of the scream which had awoken him that time back in the healer’s cabin — a sound he had heard several times while he had been a prisoner of the Vins.

“Who’s that?” he asked, voice barely above a whisper.

“Not a who. A _them_. It’s the _sjakaler_ , they’ve found us.” Ella said, tightening the hold of her arms around her knees.

Char felt his stomach constrict. While he had never seen the creatures and thus had no logical reason to fear them, the fact that they had been found was disquieting all the same.

“But how?” Char asked. As far as he knew, there had been no sign of them being followed by either the Vins or the creatures.

“I don’t know. Maybe the smelled us?” Char recognised the quaver in Ella’s voice and he moved so he could get closer to her.

“Hey, I’m not going to let them hurt you,” he said firmly, stroking the girl’s cheek with his thumb, then glancing at One Eye he amended, “ _We_ ’ll protect you.” 

As if on queue, One Eye walked inside the cave again. The older man bended over the recently put out fire to grab a handful of wood ash and then knelt beside Ella. Char released her with a quick head ruffle and watched with curiosity as One Eye smeared the wood ash all over Ella’s arms, head, face, and feet. He then carried the girl on his arms and lifted her up so Ella could hold on to a rock jutting out from the rest. Ella climbed the ledge quickly and turned back to look at One Eye, expectantly. One Eye merely brought a finger to his lips, asking her to be quiet. Ella nodded and sat as far back as she could. Char noted the ash on her skin made her harder to see — effectively camouflaging her with the surroundings.

With Ella safe, One Eye returned towards Char and glared daggers at him.

“What? What did I do?” Char retorted defensively as he stood up. One Eye continued glaring at him for another second or two and then — 

“That’s why you wanted the organs for,” Char muttered, realisation dawning on him. If the beasts had a keen sense of smell then they would’ve surely caught the strong sent of rotten flesh and blood…rotten flesh and blood One Eye had tried to dispose of _far_ from their path, to throw the animals off their scent.

“I…” Char began but found he was at a loss for words. Should he apologise? Try to justify himself?

Before he could reach a conclusion, however, another scream — or howl, actually — carried over to them but this time it seemed closer than before and the shrillness of the sound made Char flinch. He turned towards One Eye but the other man seemed unaffected by it; he merely bent down and picked up his knife.

Char let out a heavy sigh and went to retrieve his hatchet. Another howl resounded in the cave, followed by another, and another more, each closer than the last. The screeching quality of the sound was indeed nothing a human would be able to produce.

After giving a reassuring nod to Ella, Char followed One Eye outside the cave and they walked until they were several feet away from the entrance. Then One Eye stopped and pointed at something in front of them. At first, Char wasn’t able to distinguish anything other than rocks and the dark sky before them but then Char’s eyes caught sight of several shadows,  moving swiftly on the horizon towards them. He couldn’t tell an exact shape but they sure looked…big.

 _Can’t be harder than slaying wyverns_ , Char thought in an attempt to reassure himself.

One Eye raised a hand and held up four fingers. Four. Char nodded quickly and tightened his hold on the hatchet as the blood-curdling howls turned to frenzied whines — no doubt the creatures knew their were closing in on their prey.

One of the shadows moved under the moonlight and Char caught his first glimpse of the beasts. It was a large creature, a head or two taller than an average man, with small glowing eyes and a coarse coat of short fur that ended in a tail. It had a long snout from which a set of very sharp teeth protruded and sharp claws that would certainly shred through meat and bone alike.

“If you think we can kill them, I believe you,” Char said to One Eye, taking a deep breath as he felt his heart stumbling over its own rhythm. One Eye and Char exchanged a brief look before turning their attention to the four creatures making the ground vibrate as they darted from the shadows at full speed.

With determination, One Eye shifted to put his weight on his left leg and after a smooth swing to the back and then a swing forward, he threw his knife at one of the beasts. Char didn’t see where he had hit it but One Eye had certainly done some damage as the animal tripped over its paws and fell to the ground, lifting a cloud of dust and sand with it. One Eye ran after it, dodging the claws of another as he moved past it.

It was Char’s turn. He ran towards one of the creatures and before it could take a swipe at him he rolled down the belly of the beast and sprang to his feet, turning quickly to strike a blow at one of the hind paws. 

The animal let out a whine and Char made a face — it sounded like two metal objects scraping against each other. He shook his head, squared his shoulders, and charged at the beast again, dodging a swipe before landing a blow to the paw which had darted out to attack him. Char noted with some concern that the bit of his hatchet was losing its sharpness and that he would have to compensate for that by adding more strength to his blows.

_Fucking great._

The next swipe came much too close for Char’s liking and Char managed to sidestep it before it cut his face. Char brought down the hatchet with all his might and almost severed one of the beast’s paws. The animal let out a shriek so shrill Char had to cover his ears with his hands. It was a reaction which cost him dearly as he caught sight, out of the corner of his eye and a second too late, of another creature lounging at him.

Char found himself on the ground, upper body inches away from the fangs of the beast which whined and huffed as it tried to get at him, barely kept at a distance by Char’s legs, which constantly pushed back the heavy beast by the chest while his hands felt blindly for his hatchet.

The growls and warm huffs of the animal exuded a foul stench which made Char sick. A wet, slimy substance fell on him and Char grimaced. Just as he felt a sharp fang below his chin, his fingers found the hilt of his axe and Char drove the bit into the right side of the beast’s skull. The animal let out a whine but didn’t back down. Char had to hit it three more times before it fell dead on top of him with a huff.

The animals were certainly heavy. With some difficulty, Char managed to free himself from under it and wiped the blood, sweat, and saliva from his face with his arms. 

His eyes searched for One Eye and caught sight of the man, gorging out the eyes of one of the beasts with his bare fingers. The marked man moved away before the blinded animal began lashing out in all directions, hitting another creature with its claws. Enraged, the other beast lounged at it and both began fighting among themselves. It wasn’t long before the sightless one was bit in the neck by the other, blood gushing all over.

To Char’s surprise, the animal began to eat its dead partner. He had never seen an animal in Kyrria turn against another of its same kind.

 _Except for Uncle Edgar_ , his brain supplied and Char winced at his own thoughts. He focused instead on One Eye, who had taken advantage of the beast’s distraction to sneak up on it, and with what Char assumed was a knife, One Eye began to stab the left side of the beast, repeatedly.

The creature did not stay idle. It turned, faster than a snake, and snarled at One Eye. One Eye dropped his knife to grab it by the fangs and twist its head, making the creature whine and recoil before lunging at him again. One Eye rolled to his left, retrieved his knife, and the moment he sprang to his feet he slit the throat of the animal, the arterial spray soaking him wet.

The agonising whines filled the night and Char saw One Eye emerge bloodied and ragged, with that cold fury shining on his eye. The man’s sharp features were somehow heightened by the way the blood marring his face caught the moonlight. Char could only think of one word to describe the way the marked man looked in that moment — beautiful.

One Eye turned his head towards Char and their eyes locked. There was something in the way that brown eye looked at him that sent shivers down Char’s back. It was almost as if One Eye was able to _see_ …but before Char could finish that thought he heard a noise, a rustling behind him, and his mind quickly took in the number of fallen creatures. Three.

_Where is number four?_

The rustling now carried a soft growl and Char knew it then.

_Well, shit._

Char closed his eyes and the moment he heard the unmistakable huff of the beast behind him, he spun on his left foot as quickly as he could to sidestep the attack, making sure to raise his right hand to try and block the incoming swipe of claws with his hatchet.

He could feel a sting on his chest as the claws grazed him but Char swung his hatchet anyway. He missed. The creature ran past him unharmed and turned about to charge at him once more. It was then Char saw One Eye leap from the ground, knife in hand, ready to drive his blade on the beast but the animal saw him too. To Char’s horror, the creature caught One Eye mid-air with its jaws and began to shake him about as if he were a rag doll.

“No!” Char shouted and without thinking, he holstered his hatchet, ran towards the beast and, grabbing a handful of the coarse and thick fur, he climbed on top of it.

Keeping a firm hold on the animal’s fur with his left hand, Char took out his axe again and bludgeoned the thing’s head until it let go of One Eye with a plop.

The animal began to buck until Char fell off its back. Not wasting a second, Char rolled over several times to avoid being stepped on and got up from the ground. Yet the animal was fast and as soon as Char stood it lounged at him. Char managed to parry the attack but in a swift slash the sharp claws broke Char’s hatchet.

Char quickly retrieved one of the largest broken pieces of the handle and went for the eyes. Ignoring the wails and cries of the wounded animal, Char retrieved another wooden shard and before the animal could recover, he used it to stab the animal in the throat until the last beast fell to the ground motionless.

Drenched in blood, Char quickly rushed to One Eye’s side.

“No, no, no.” Char muttered as he kneeled beside him and tried to feel for a pulse. He was very much surprised to find One Eye was still breathing.

Char quickly picked up the injured man from the ground and carried him back inside the cave.

“What happened?!” Ella asked as soon as she saw Char enter the cave with One Eye on his arms.

“One of the beasts…it…it was my fault, I…” Char stammered, setting down the wounded man as carefully as he could. The smell of blood was so strong it was making Char sick.

“Char! Help me down!” Ella shouted with desperation and Char turned to see the girl trying to climb down the ledge on her own. Char, although slightly shorter than One Eye, managed to grab Ella by the waist and lowered her to her feet.

Both immediately turned their attention back to their wounded friend.

Char divested the other man of his tunic and undershirt with shaky hands and exposed One Eye’s chest to assess the extent of the damage…but his hands just hovered over the wounds. Char had no idea which one he should tend to first, or even if it was worth to try — he had seen men die of lesser wounds without the help of a magic healer. By all accounts, One Eye should be dead.

The marked man groaned then, fingers twitching.

_You can’t give up. He’s not giving up._

Char pressed his hands on one of the deeper gashes, right above One Eye’s left nipple, and turned his head to look at Ella.

“I think we need fire to seal his wounds,” Char ventured, remembering some of the techniques of the non-magic healers, “I’ll try to start one but I need you to put — ” but then Char saw something move across the man’s chest and he immediately let go.

At first, he thought he had imagined it but then he saw it a gain — something dark moved on the surface of One Eye’s skin.

One Eye groaned again.

“What’s wrong?” Ella asked, kneeling beside Char. 

“Do you see that?” Char shot back, pointing at One Eye’s chest.

Ella turned her head and let out a surprised gasp. “Yes, I see it!”

Both stood there, kneeling on the ground, trying to make sense of what they were seeing until Char realised it was the markings on the man’s skin — the markings were moving.

The strange patterns with its twisting shapes and arrow heads began to dance on the man’s skin until some of them aligned to form three interlocking triangles on the man’s chest and then the symbol began to glow. But this glow wasn’t the soothing light blue Char associated with healing magic. The symbol on One Eye’s chest glowed like a hot iron, searing the man’s flesh.

Char drew further back from One Eye as the man’s muscles began to spasm and his breathing got increasingly more laboured. Ella tried to get closer to One Eye but Char held her by the arm and pulled her back.

“No, don’t touch him!”

“He’s hurting!”

Char struggled to hold Ella back as One Eye writhed and groaned until the symbol stopped burning and the marks slowly returned to normal. Once One Eye stopped shaking, Ella and Char approached him.

Char reached out to touch the man but he was forced to withdraw his hand quickly. One Eye’s skin was much too hot to the touch. 

“He’s burning.” Char warned Ella, who seemed as confused as he was about what they had just witnessed.

Char fixed his eyes on One Eye’s chest and when he saw it rise and fall evenly, he let out a sigh of relief.

Char touched One Eye again and this time the man’s temperature seemed to have returned to normal. Carefully, he inspected the fatal wounds and his eyes widened in shock as he confirmed bone and flesh had regenerated anew.

“Magic.” Char mumbled.

The skin only bore raw scars where the fangs of the beast had pierced and tore it. “I thought there was no magic in Vinland.” Char muttered. “Ella, did you ever see this happen to him before?”

The girl shook her head. “I think the Vins spoke of this once, but ‘magic’ wasn’t the word they used.”

“What did they call it?”

“They said it was…I think the word they used was ‘curse’.”

*|*|*

They slept for the remainder of the night and in the morning Char left the cave to find them food and water, seeing that whatever had happened to One Eye had sent the marked man into a profound sleep.

According to his calculations, they couldn’t be far from the Forlorn Forest — a day at most — but Char resolved to wait until One Eye awoke on his own. Carrying the still unconscious man would be more of a hurdle than waiting — and leaving him behind was simply an option Char refused to consider.

Thus, Char scouted the scene of the battle in search of something he could use. He found the head of his hatchet and used it to skin one of the beasts while Ella gathered wood for a fire.

The meat of the beasts was dry and didn’t taste good but they were both so hungry they almost ate most of the edible parts of the beast by themselves. Neither spoke about what had happened but Char knew they were both thinking about it.

Cursed. One Eye had been cursed.

_By whom? Why?_

The only thing Char knew for certain was that whoever had cast the curse was someone powerful. Such high level of magic couldn’t be the work of an ordinary practitioner.

*|*|*

Char was woken from his nap by a rustling sound. For a moment he believed it was Ella yet a quick look around him confirmed the girl was still napping too, curled next to the spot where One Eye was supposed to be.

Char got up as quietly as he could so as not to disturb her and left the cave in search for the other man.

He didn’t have to look far. One Eye was standing a couple of feet from the entrance, bathing in the midday sun—  completely naked. His clothes lay discarded on a heap on the ground next to him as he looked at his outstretched arms. One Eye brought a finger to his forearms and traced one of the markings there. Then he moved to right shoulder, tracing the coiling pattern of another.

Char leaned against one of the rocks of their shelter, inadvertently loosening a tiny loose stone. The faint crack was enough for One Eye to snap his attention towards him.

“I just wanted to make sure you’re alright!” Char stammered quickly, holding his hands up and cheeks blushing furiously, feeling as if he had been caught doing something wrong.

One Eye stared at him impassively. Char lowered his hands and approached the other man.

“What happened yesterday…I’m…It was my fault. I —”

And Char found himself unable to finish his apology. A hand lifted to cup his face and now a thumb was stroking his cheek while the maroon eye stared piercingly at him.

Char suddenly felt a shiver run down his spine.

The thumb traced the contour of Char’s cheekbone and moved slowly to his cupid’s bow, tracing the outline of his lips, gently, softly — as if adding more pressure would hurt them. Char let out a low exhale through his mouth when the ball of One Eye’s thumb grazed his lower lip.

His heart was pounding on his chest, his legs suddenly felt like jelly but all Char could do was stare into the brown eye transfixed on his lips.

One Eye’s thumb pulled slightly on Char’s lower lip, the tip of his fingernail barely grazing his skin. Char closed his eyes and suddenly One Eye’s hand was gone. Char quickly opened his eyes again, just in time to see the marked man retrieve his clothes from the ground and walk back inside the cave.

_What the — ?_

Char stood there, caught between anger and dejection, trying to understand what had just happened…or rather, what had not. And then a different question popped up in his mind:

_Did you want something to happen?_

Char snorted, shaking his head and running a hand through his oily and matted hair.

*|*|*

Soon the three of them were on the move again. Char wished he could say he’d gotten used by now to the heat and the desert but he doubted anyone could. Besides, the irons he still wore were quick to heat up in the sun and burn his flesh.

He tried not to think too hard about that.

His mind wandered then into what he would most likely face when he returned to Frell but he didn’t want to think about that either.

His eyes fell on the back the man leading them and he recalled the way One Eye had looked a couple of hours ago, naked in the sun, tracing the strange markings that were most likely the result of a curse…the glint in his eye as he traced Char’s lips…

The enthusiastic tug on his tunic brought Char out of his reverie and he looked down at Ella.

“Look!” the girl cried, not bothering to hide the grin on her face.

Char stopped on his tracks. There, right in front of them, was a vast expanse of dead trees and fallen leaves. A place Char at first thought he was imagining had it not been for Ella’s tug on his hand as she bounced giddily. 

The Forlorn Forest. 

Char couldn’t believe it. He was back.

/*|*|*\

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If anyone’s still reading: 
> 
> I’m sorry this has taken so long to be updated. You see, I realised I had deviated from where I originally wanted to take this story and that got me anxious. So I started thinking and over-thinking things and that led me to a writer’s block…
> 
> I apologise for the delay, this sorry excuse of a fic, and for not going the way some people, I fear, thought this was going.
> 
>  
> 
> Oh, and the symbol of the three interlocking triangles? It’s the valknut :)


	7. Chapter 7

Char took a deep breath, held it for as long as he could, and then he breathed out, slowly. Initially, he’d felt something akin to excitement at the prospect of returning to familiar grounds. Yet as they began to cross the Forlorn Forest, with its eerie fog and trees, Char noticed he was surprisingly numb.

Exhaustion, hunger, thirst…he could feel all that but the elation he’d anticipated was nowhere to be found. Now that he was back in Kyrrian soil — far away from the Vins — Char knew he should feel at the very least relieved. But the deeper they got into the maze of dead trees blanketed by that perpetual fog, the more the air felt stifling and the harder he found to breathe.

He felt a tug on his hand and Char looked down towards Ella, a concerned look in her face.

“I don’t like this forest.” the girl whispered, almost as if afraid of being heard.

“Yeah, me neither.” Char agreed. After all, the last time he had been here — an image of his dead men flashed in his mind, followed by the sight of his bloodied gauntlet, of the resignation he’d felt when dying…

Char brought a hand to his left side unconsciously. The wound still felt a bit tender despite healing properly. He’d never seen the dagger coming; it had all happened so fast. One minute he was fighting back-to-back with Sir Mallory, the next he was the only one left standing. Just barely. The dagger had come from behind. 

“I think the trees are watching us.” Char was brought back from his recollections by the feeling of Ella’s grip tightening on his clothes. Char kneeled down to reassure her, to tell her there was nothing to worry about when suddenly he heard a swooshing sound and an arrow hit the tree trunk behind them, right where his head had been a few seconds ago.

“Shit!” Char exclaimed, grabbing Ella by the hand and hiding behind the tree. He darted a look to his left to see One Eye had also taken cover.

“What’s happening?” Ella asked.

“Bandits.” Char replied with the only explanation that made sense to him. 

“But we’ve got nothing of value!” Ella quipped.

“They don’t know that.” Char retorted, venturing to take a peek to his right to see if he could spot their assailants but the fog made it almost impossible to see that far ahead. Char turned to One Eye and saw the other move to take cover behind a tree further in.

“Come!” Char told Ella, pulling her by the hand to run as fast as they could, hiding behind another tree to their left, getting closer to One Eye. Once they manage to reach the tree nearest to the marked man, Char turned to Ella.

“Tell him it’s too risky to counterattack.” Char said. Ella relayed his message and Char saw One Eye hesitate. Char merely shook his head. To him, it was clear they were at a disadvantage. They had no weapons to defend themselves and the number of bandits was unknown. The fog, which they could use to their favour, could also be used against them, even more so when the people living in the forest knew the area better than them. Sure enough, One Eye was more than a formidable warrior in hand-to-hand combat and Char could hold his own yet something still told him it’d be suicide to fight back. No, it was best if they didn’t engage this time.

“Tell him we need to move further in, get lost in the fog to evade them.” Char said to Ella but he didn’t break eye contact with One Eye.

The marked man pursed his lips slightly and Char saw his nostrils flare — obvious signs he was against his idea — but in the end, One Eye gave him a quick nod. He then motioned for Ella to come to him.

“Go, go with him!” Char urged, giving Ella a nudge. Ella ran towards One Eye and as soon as the other man had her within reach, he pulled her towards him and lift her up to carry her. Ella put her hands around One Eye’s neck and duck her head under his chin, in the crook of his neck. One Eye placed a protective hand on her head while his other tightened around her waist.

One Eye and Char exchange glances before dashing at full speed further inside the forest. Char heard the sound of many arrows flying past them and over their heads as he zigzagged across the forest.

Out of the corner of his eye, Char saw One Eye take a sharp turn to their left. He followed him but slipped. A lucky accident, as an arrow cut the air right where his chest would’ve been had he not fallen. Two more arrows zipped past his head, one hitting a tree next to him a few inches to the right of his neck. It was then Char noticed the feathers of the fletching of the arrow were dyed blue and gold — the colours of his army.

“Wait!” Char exclaimed, springing to his feet, arms above his head. “In the name of Prince Charmont of Kyrria, loyal heir — ” another arrow flew right next to him, missing his arm by an inch or two.

“Hold! We’re — ” 

Char felt a tug on his hand and looked up to see One Eye, eye wide open an glaring at him in exasperation. Char tried to yank his arm free of the other man’s grasp.

“Stop! It’s my men out there!”

“Char, what are you doing?!” Ella cried.

Char continued to struggle to free his arm just as an zipped past the girl’s head, grazing One Eye’s cheek. One Eye squinted his eyes, no doubt feeling the sting of the wound but never did he release Char’s arm.

“Alright, alright!” Char conceded and followed One Eye and Ella closely.

He glanced back several times as they continued moving forwards, trying to spot any sign which could confirm their pursuers were indeed his men but he failed to catch a glimpse of either their armour or their shields.

Char, One Eye, and Ella ran until they reached a part of the woods where the fog became thicker and the trees taller, blocking most of the sunlight. 

After a while, Char noticed they were no longer being followed.

*|*|*

Night fell upon them rather quickly. Or at least it seemed to Char that it did. The fact there wasn’t much sunlight to begin with had contributed to the notion. Once One Eye spotted a place to set up camp, Char quickly began gathering wood for the fire.

Their dinner this time would be a pair of hares the other man had hunted and Char was grateful to leave behind the diet of snakes and small rodents.

Char ate mostly in silence, his eyes darting now and then to the gash in One Eye’s sharp cheekbone. The wound had been superficial and was already closing. He wondered if his quick healing was a result of the curse. Meanwhile, Ella was busy talking to One Eye in Vin. Char knew she was saying something about him as he recognised his name being spoken but said nothing. Once Ella finished, she sat down next to Char, her eyebrows frowned.

“Char, why are the the bandits your men?”

The question seemed to come so out of the blue Char did a double-take.

“What?”

“Back there, you said the bandits were ‘your men.’ Why? Do you know them?” 

“I…I saw one of the arrows, the feathers were painted blue and gold.”

It took Ella a second but then her face lit up and she exclaimed: “The colours of Prince Charmont!”

“Y-yes. I thought…I thought they could take us to the garrison in Malpast, once they saw we’re allies.”

“But they almost killed us.”

“Yeah, maybe because it’s us who look like bandits.” Char said, gesturing at their worn and dirty clothes. Not to say the shackles around their feet and wrists, and the iron collar they still wore, which Char realised he had forgotten about. He decided not to dwell on that.

“So that’s were we’re going? To Malpast?” Ella asked with a frown.

“It’s the closest town from here and as far as I know, there’s a garrison of men loyal to the Prince stationed there.”

“And what will happen when we reach Malpast?” Ella asked, leaning against his arm. Char felt One Eye’s stare falling on him.

“I will identify myself…and then…” Char took a quick look at One Eye, “they will take us to Frell.”

Ella gasped and then smiled, a big bright smile.

“One Eye will like Frell, won’t he? We’ll take him to my favourite bakery shop so he can try scones, and then to the central library so the masters can teach him Common, and then we can go to the magician’s square so he can see the musical fountain!”

Char forced himself to smile and nod. The magician’s square had been the main shopping square for all magical practitioners. It had an enchanted fountain that changed colours and played tunes — a gift from a powerful enchantress to his great-grandfather. The square had also been one of the main targets of Uncle Edgar’s army during the siege of Frell. The last time Char had seen it, all that remained were cinders and smoke.

Char wondered if it wouldn’t be best to tell Ella the truth but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. There was a glow in her eyes when she’d mentioned the place and he didn’t want to take that away from her, not after all the misery and horror of Vinland. Perhaps, once he found her father he would tell her. 

“And in Frell, the Prince will make One Eye a member of his personal guard, once he sees he's the best warrior he could find, won’t he?” Ella said, matter-of-factly.

“The Prince would be honoured to have such a brave warrior fighting by his side, I’d say.” Char said, exchanging a look with said brave warrior. One Eye tilted his head slightly and Char saw a gleam in his brown eye. It could’ve been caused by the light cast by the fire but something deep down told Char that had nothing to do with it.

Not for the first time, Char wondered if One Eye understood more Common than he let on.

“I’m sure the Prince will reward you too, Char, for being such a loyal soldier and doing your best to return to Frell alive.”

_Gee, thanks._

“I’m sure he will.”

 *|*|*

Sleep remained elusive for Char a good part of the night. That's usually what happens when guilt weighs on one’s conscience anyway. Was it truly so hard to tell Ella — and One Eye, by extension — that he was the Prince?

He could tell them as soon as dawn broke upon them; say he had something important to announce and just…say it. Say he was the Prince. Couldn’t be that hard. It wasn’t like he mistrusted them so why couldn’t he do it?

Char shifted to his right side, curling up like a ball.

Char knew he’d dug himself into a hole that kept growing deeper and deeper every time he failed to tell them the truth. And he feared Ella’s reaction most of all. The girl had been open and honest with him and Char had lied to her since the very beginning of their acquaintance about who he truly was. Whatever justification he’d initially considered to keep deceiving her had expired the moment they’d escaped the Vins.

He knew he could keep up appearances until they reached Malpast but once there…Char would have to become the Prince of Kyrria once more.

Char shifted again, this time to lie on his left.

Perhaps that’s why he was so reluctant to tell them. It was easier to be just Char, a common soldier who’d gone missing in combat and who'd found companionship in the world’s two unlikeliest allies: a clever child and a mute Vin.

Char closed his eyes, intent on finding some sleep this time yet his mind was still too restless. On the rare times this had happened to him before, he would walk the walls of the castle but now, a quick stroll in the woods would have to suffice.

Making as little noise as possible, Char stood up. The fog seemed to be thicker here so he didn’t wander too far from the campsite.There was an eerie wind blowing, lifting the fallen leaves from the ground, whistling through the branches of the trees, almost like a whisper. Char rubbed his hands to keep them warm. Perhaps wandering the forest hadn’t been such a good idea after all. Suddenly, he felt something yank his foot that made him stumble and fall. Char promptly looked over his shoulder to see what had made him trip and found the bodies of Sir George, Sir Percy, and Sir Mallory, their faces contorted in pain, mouths slightly agape, flies and maggots feasting on their rotten flesh.

Char recoiled in horror, walking backwards to get away from them but then his feet stepped on a texture different from leaves and dirt and Char looked down to see it was blood. Char looked around him and found himself surrounded by dozens and dozens of bodies — of soldiers, farmers, merchants, children — their blood painting the cobblestone streets of Frell a dark red while houses and shops burned and crumbled around him. Char could hear the clash of swords coming from the square; the panicked yells of the people searching for their relatives lost in the chaos.

Uncle Edgar had taken the lives of many during the siege. Char could’ve surrendered, he could’ve saved some of them but Sir Robert had had a plan. They had won the siege but at what cost?

“I didn’t want this.” Char whispered, feeling a weight constricting his chest. He stood up and ran away, far away from the main square and the city. Yet as soon as he stepped out of the gates he found himself back in the Vin settlement, watching the huts and cabins being burnt, and the corpses of villagers and the men of the jarl scattered on the craggy ground.

At the time, Char had spared little thought to the lives taken that day but had they deserved to die? All those people, who didn’t know any better?

Char fell to his knees, covering his eyes with his hands.

The whispers of the wind seemed to get louder and louder and the whistling noise seemed to say “murderer”.

“No.” Char shook his head. Yet the wind whispered louder to him “murderer”.

“No!”

“Death follows you wherever you go.” a feminine voice whispered on his ear then and Char’s eyes snapped open. He was back in the Forlorn Forest but he was alone. There were no corpses on the ground, no blood. No fog.

A shadow moved behind the trees, barely visible in the night. Char followed it as it glided silently across the fallen leaves of the trees, almost as if it were floating.

“Who are you?” Char asked, once they reached a small clearing in the forest. The shadow seemed to become corporeal then and Char could now make out the back of a hooded figure, which stopped ahead of him but didn’t turn to face him. The moon was high in the sky and Char could see that it was full, it’s yellow light falling on both of them.

“Wars never come without casualties.” the voice of the female stranger whispered again, so close to Char he’d been certain he’d felt her breath on his ear but it was impossible; the woman hadn’t even moved.

“I…I never thought so many would die.” Char answered sincerely. 

“And many more will, if you keep fighting.” the voice said in a hushed tone, this time to his other side, “Are you prepared to face the consequences?”

“I just want what’s best for my people.” Char replied.

“And a war is what’s best for them?” the voice asked behind him. Char felt the woman’s hands on his shoulders, fingers slithering slowly to his chest, yet she was still standing a few feet in front of him.

“No,”

“Is becoming a King worth the life of so many?”

Char had asked himself that question so many times. He had even confessed to Sir Robert that he would’ve gladly given his life to avoid further bloodshed had he not feared what Uncle Edgar would do if he were crowned in his stead. His uncle would’ve never give his people — all his people — freedom. He had hunted down all magical creatures and executed as many mages as he’d found. How could Char have entrusted the kingdom to such a man? 

“It’s my people who’ve put their faith in me. My people who are willing to give their lives for what they believe in. It is my duty as their King to honour their sacrifice.” Char said and felt the fingers run up and down his neck.

“Why not let your Uncle rule? Why keep clinging to the idea you can be king when you’re not strong enough to bear the consequences of your choices?” Char felt the hands tightening their grip on his neck.

“Because my people need me.” Char responded, the hands around his throat constricting his windpipe, “I w-want what’s…b-best for them. For all of t-them.” Char stated, his hands fighting to remove the invisible ones that were choking him.

“Die and let Edgar rule!” the woman yelled, squeezing tighter.

“No!” Char gasped, feeling overpowered by the strength of the woman, his hands desperate to remove the hold she had on him.

Then, out of the corner of his eye, Char saw One Eye, a wooden stick in his hand.

“H-help…m-me…” Char managed, the edges of his vision fading to black.

One Eye took the sharpest end of the stick and cut his left palm with it. Once his wound began to bleed, he dipped his finger in his own blood, grabbed Char’s right hand, and painted a symbol on it. It looked like how a child would draw a tree trunk: ᛉ. 

The woman hissed as if burned. “You won’t get away from me.” the voice yelled at him one last time before Char felt the pressure on his throat relented and the hooded woman morphed into a murder of crows which flew away from the clearing, disappearing in the trees around them.

The symbol on Char’s hand glowed like a hot iron on his skin but it didn’t burn him.

“Thank you.” Char said, out of breath. It was then that he noticed One Eye had both of his hands clenched into fists, a tight jaw, flared nostrils, and a deadly glare in his eye. One Eye wasn’t looking at him. He was staring in the direction they’d seen the crows vanish.

Without a warning, One Eye sank to his knees and slammed his fists against the ground. He did it again and again, and then began hitting the ground harder and faster with just his right fist. A tear running down his cheek. Once he released all his pent up anger he just remained there with a vacant stare, chest heaving up and down.

“You know her.” Char stated once he saw One Eye breathing evenly. The marked man seemed to remember then that he wasn’t alone and turned towards Char.

“I don’t know much about magic but clearly that was no ordinary mage.” Char said, pointing towards the trees. He then kneeled down next to One Eye and placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. “She was the one who put the curse, the ehm, _forbendlse_ , on you, wasn’t she?”

Char knew he had mispronounced that terribly — Ella had truly done her best teaching him — but he hoped he’d managed to get his meaning across. One Eye nodded slowly.

Char tightened the grip on One Eye’s shoulder. “I’ll help you,” he said, patting his own chest, “I promise I’ll do my best to find a way to lift the _forbendse_.” Char would have to ask Ella to translate that later for him yet for now, he hoped the honesty of his words and his intentions could reach One Eye.

The other man stared at Char, as if assessing whether to trust him or not. One Eye must’ve found what he was looking for, because he lifted a hand to cup Char’s face, his thumb stroking his right cheekbone.

Char let out a heavy breath.

“Have you any idea what you do to me?” Char heard himself whisper, feeling a prickling on the back of his neck and the base of his spine. 

One Eye huffed, his good eye half lidded.

Char lifted one of his hands to comb with his fingers a few strands of hair from One Eye’s forehead, which had fallen loose from the marked man’s messy hair bun.

That both of them were in a less than desirable state of cleanliness didn’t escape Char’s notice but he pushed that thought to the side. He just…ran his forefinger along One Eye’s long and straight nose, pleasantly aware he was making the other man shudder under his touch. He then traced the contour of his lips, like One Eye had done to him not that long ago, and got lost in the sensation of that touch of roughness to One Eye’s stubble — that could be called a beard now.

One Eye suddenly took him by the hips and pulled him closer, rather roughly. A gasp escaped Char’s lips and he found himself so close to the marked man that he could feel the other’s breath on his face.

Nothing could beat the intensity of that brown gaze fixed on him and what One Eye made him feel right then…he’d never felt before. 

One Eye stopped cupping Char’s cheek. He stood up and began walking away back to their camp.

Char bit his lip, shook his head, and followed the marked man right after.

 *|*|*

The next morning, Char woke up half-convinced he’d dreamed the whole thing with the witch until his eyes scanned his own hand and found the symbol, written in One Eye’s now dried blood.

He had no time to dwell on it, however, as One Eye seemed to be eager to set them back on the road.

“I think it’ll be best if we avoid the smaller towns around here.” Char said, as they began walking.

“Why?”

 _Because if what I was told was true, One Eye has killed many in this area and I don’t want them to recognise him,_ was what Char thought yet what he said was: “It’s better not to draw too much attention to ourselves.”

He gave a sideways glance to One Eye who gave no indication of having heard him.

Ella, blissfully ignorant of the tension between them, turned to One Eye then and conveyed the message in Vin. One Eye seemed pensive for a second before he inhaled deeply and nodded. He immediately changed course to avoid the villages.

“You know, I don’t think I’ve ever told you I’m amazed at how quickly you learnt to speak Vin.” Char told Ella, certain the girl would preen at the compliment but the girl grimaced and Char suddenly began stammering apologies.

“I-I didn’t…Ella, I’m sorry, I…”

“It’s alright. It’s just that…” she seemed to struggle with her explanation and Char feared the lengths the Vins had gone with her to teach her the language.

“Did…did they force you to learn it?” Char asked, wording his question carefully.

Ella sighed. “No. It was the old woman, the one who speaks Common and Vin? I was going to be her replacement and she…she _told me_ to learn the language.”

Char stopped and kneeled down to be at the girl’s eye level. He’d noticed there was something…odd, about her, something he couldn’t place quite yet, but maybe she could tell him.

“Ella, is something wrong?” Char asked as gently as he could.

Ella looked at him, a strange mix of hope and dread in her eyes before she finally shook her head.

“It’s nothing you can help me with.”

“But if you don’t tell me, then how —”

“I can’t tell you!” Ella yelled, making One Eye stop and look over his shoulder at them. Ella muttered a half-felt “sorry” before she ran to catch up to One Eye.

Char stood up, exchanged a brief look with One Eye, and then kept going.

He was going to figure it out — he vowed silently — one way or another.

/*|*|*\

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OMG, you guys!! Thank you for all your comments and kudos...and for all the people who haven't lost faith in me finishing this story.  
> I swear I will...it's just...it's taking me a long time to write this and finish this but know I won't rest until this is complete. 
> 
> I'm so sorry. Have an update. * Alex runs and hides in shame*


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